


Someone I'm Close To

by ricecrispbees



Series: (Don't Starve) S.I.C.T. universe [1]
Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, I'm trying okay, M/M, Murder, Slow Build, Wilson doesnt take care of himself :0, at least not at first, close bond between siblings, completed work, first work for DS, honestly the jump from 'i hate you' to 'i love you' happens pretty quickly but still, quality Pure Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-18
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-09-25 10:02:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 52,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9814538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ricecrispbees/pseuds/ricecrispbees
Summary: Something's wrong with Wilson, and Wickerbottom decides that Maxwell should be the one to find out what it is.





	1. The Curtain Rises

Wilson's back and arms ached after a grueling day of working on his garden to test a new fertilizer he'd concocted a few nights ago. His hands were numb and red and covered in numerous injuries from both his work and taking a detour to tear some vines off the outside of the stone walls of the base, which happened to have rather large thorns growing on them. His legs felt like they'd been stung by a million killer bees all at once, and words couldn't describe how stiff his back was. The pain was excruciating. His legs wobbled like wet goop when he walked.

Unfortunately, even though his whole body felt like it was on fire, the stubbornly determined scientist continued his work, which was hammering away at new materials on the science machine now that the garden task was complete. With each swing of the hammer, swipe of a blade, or even the simple insertion of object into the machine, his body hurt a little bit worse, but the Brit paid his wounds no mind. He simply saw them as a minor distraction from what he really needed to do. See, there was something bugging him for the past few weeks. Everyone could see it, but no one could tell what it was. As a distraction, he began working more, not stopping even when the base was attacked by hounds and Wigfrid literally had to drag him in by his hair. When Wilson started going to bed early, Wickerbottom speculated he was becoming depressed, but didn't state much of a reason for it.

"Wilson's always been sort of...aloof, I guess." Wigfrid's red, curly braids bounced as she shook her head. She sat on a log by the fire pit, roasting a few morsels of meat over the fire. Her Icelandic accent was especially thick on the word "aloof". "Maybe this time is no different."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Wendy sat, cross-legged, next to Webber by the pit. She held a red rose in her hand and every so often she'd tear off a petal and throw it into the fire.

"He's always spendin' his time away from us, either working on some new project or getting materials for one of his new projects. He's obsessed. Maybe he's just really focused on this one." Wigfrid responded and took a bite out of one of the now fully cooked morsels.

"I'm not so sure about that." Wickerbottom pursed her lips. "Haven't you noticed how he's been so reckless lately? He works to the point of exhaustion on these so-called 'projects', and even then, he refuses to stop until he collapses. Last night I found him passed out just meters away from his tent, as if he didn't make it there before sleep got ahold of him. That boy..." She shook her head.

"Ma'am, he's not a boy. He's 35 years old. By now, Mr. Higgsbury is a man." Webber pointed out.

"Well, he certainly doesn't act like it." The old woman's voice had an edge to it. "I, personally, am a bit worried about him."

"So are we." Webber nodded in agreement. Wendy didn't speak but she appeared to agree with her friend.

Maxwell listened to them all eagerly from a distance. He was leaning against a tree, originally watching the girl and her friend throw a rose into the fire. For him, that was a very personal form of symbolism that lately had become rather appealing to him.

"I agree with Wickerbottom." His voice was deep like a bassoon and everyone's eyes fell to him as soon as he spoke. "Something is wrong with him, but I think we should leave him be until he reaches a critical condition."

"What kind of treatment is that?" Wickerbottom raised an eyebrow. "You're sadistic."

"Maybe I am." Maxwell shrugged. "Doesn't matter. If we let him slowly fall apart, eventually he'll come crawling to us for help, and it'll be easier for him to spill what's wrong." He shrugged.

"And how would you know?" Wigfrid asked slowly, an almost accusing tone slipping into her heavily accented voice.

"You know I used to be the high power of this island. I'm the reason, more or less, that he's here. I've monitored him long enough to see what happens when his sanity gets low enough." The tall man smirked. "Just save your efforts until he gets to that level. Then you can help. 'Till then, it's useless. He's stubborn as an ass. He won't tell you if you prod him with a killer bee on a stick."

"Why do you care, anyway?" Wigfrid glared over at Maxwell.

"Wigfrid, calm down." Wickerbottom chastised, but she was ignored.

Maxwell shrugged again. "I don't like to hear you all whine about something you can't fix is all."

Wigfrid rolled her eyes. "Makes sense. You know, sometimes I wonder if you can even feel for anyone anymore." She bit her lip and glared at the dapper half-demon. She was the last to arrive at this island and held the biggest grudge against Maxwell as of now.

Maxwell laughed bitterly. "Maybe and maybe not. It's not for you to know."

Everyone fell into an awkward silence after that. Webber and Wendy continued destroying their flowers in silence, Wigfrid ate her meat with a frustrated look on her face, and Wickerbottom kept busy with a new book she'd written the night before. That was how most nights went ever since; awkward and tense conversations between some members of the small society formed in this strange, new land while Wilson was away doing god knows what. Most nights he'd come stumbling into camp, bumping into the stone walls and passing out with a freshly lit torch still in his left hand. In the morning, before anyone could come find him to chastise him for being reckless and staying out late, he'd be long gone.

There was a reason for him not telling. This issue was personal to him, so much that he felt no one else could hear it. No matter how close he got with everyone else, he could never tell them, because he felt the secret would lose its value if they knew. Still, if he didn't tell, nothing could be done, but either way it wasn't fixable so he saw there was no point.

The scientist could tell his friends (and Maxwell) were on to him, though. One night, he came back to camp a bit earlier than usual and overheard a bit of conversation between Wickerbottom and Maxwell. He couldn't exactly see them except for their silhouettes through the leather outside of the tent, but he could tell from the way Wickerbottom moved her hands and her tense tone that she was feeling very worried.

"Maxwell, please. I've asked you over and over again for help on this."

"And I've been refusing your offer since you started asking. What's that tell you?"

"William Carter, you live here and I expect you to help out around here! This time is no exception!"

"Who died and left you in charge?" There was a cool, sarcastic tone in Maxwell's voice, and he was obviously amused that a woman much shorter than himself was trying to be the authority here.

"Well, no one, but still. Maxwell, please. No one else knows what to do because no one else has spent enough time with him as you!"

Maxwell held up a hand, which was just a blurry shadow in the point of view of Wilson.

"Technically, watching him from another plane of existence doesn't count as spending time with him."

"Listen, you know what I mean. You're the only person here who knows something about him other than how to identify him on an operating table. You know how he behaves and you know what he'd be most likely to do in a given situation. I know you don't like him but I want you to be the one to do this."

"I never said I didn't like him, and why me?"

"Because we all have our own problems to deal with!" Normally Wickerbottom repressed her Dutch accent well, but when she was feeling upset it sort of slipped out. "Wes can't talk so he can't help. Woodie and Wolfgang wouldn't know how to help, Webber and Wendy are just children and Wigfrid's still trying to get used to this damn place! So please, for the love of God, do something useful around here and try to help him out!"

That must have done the trick.

"Alright." Maxwell's voice had lost some of its coolness. "Fine. But get off my tail about it once it's done."

"Deal." Wickerbottom crossed her arms. "By the way, that wasn't a very gentlemanly thing of you to say."

Maxwell huffed. "That's not my concern. If you said that to Wilson, however, I'm sure that would take a good chunk out of his ego."

"Go to bed." Wickerbottom commanded and the two parted to each head to their separate tents. From then on, Wilson decided he'd spend enough time away from them for two reasons. One, he didn't want anyone figuring out what he was up to, and two, he wanted to spite Maxwell and keep him in trouble with Wickerbottom for as long as possible as sort of a payback for all the times he made him suffer.

Which brings us to the present. Dusk was setting in and Wilson knew he was screwed if he was left out here without anything to build a fire with. Quickly he grabbed some grass from the ground and plucked the twigs off a few saplings. With aching limbs, he crafted a torch and slipped it inside his backpack for safekeeping. He felt like he was being watched but brushed it off as low sanity. He looked down at his hands and saw they were bruised and red and forming blisters from a hard day's work. He spotted a stream not too far from where he was and stumbled over it, swerving to avoid a tree in his way. He went to kneel down but his knees wouldn't allow it, so he settled for sitting instead. He splashed cool water onto his hands and face, and his face and hair were soaked within minutes. Exhaustion set in shortly after, but the scientist tried to ignore it best he could. He leaned back against the tree, fighting to stay awake as he tried to enjoy this moment of relaxation best he could.

A few paces back stood Maxwell, hiding behind a tree. In a moment, he would step out and confront Wilson about why he had been acting so strange. He wanted to get Wickerbottom off his ass ASAP. That woman was seriously scary sometimes, even to him, though he'd never admit it.

That plan didn't work out so well. As soon as he stepped out from behind the tree, his foot crunched down on a sapling, scaring both of them so badly that Maxwell flinched hard and Wilson screamed.

"Who's there?!" Wilson produced a spear from his inventory and shakily held it up as he looked around.

"R-relax, pal, it's just me." Maxwell tried to keep the cool, steady tone of his voice, but it still wavered a bit. 

"Oh, great." Wilson lowered the spear a little. "What do you want?"

Maxwell smiled, the initial shock of the sapling breaking having worn off. "Relax. I was just out gathering resources since our grass farms haven't replenished themselves yet. Fancy seeing you here. How long's it been since anyone saw you? Two, three days, maybe?"

"Four." Wilson put his spear back and looked down awkwardly. "It's been four days."

"What's the deal, pal? Are we all so unbearable that you've decided to run away? That's not smart, you know. We still don't know what all lurks in this strange, new world." Maxwell spread his arms out for emphasis.

"Nothing's wrong." Wilson rolled his eyes. "Besides, what the hell do you care, anyways?"

"I don't." Maxwell laughed cruelly. "It's everyone else who's worried, and I suppose as a sort of revenge for sending them here, they're making me check on you." He shrugged indifferently. "At least get up and show your face to the others so they know you're not dead."

Wilson refused, stubborn as ever, afraid that even one wrong move would make him spill his secret. "Absolutely not."

Maxwell frowned. "At least show me where you're staking out."

"I still stay at the base," Wilson argued. "I just come back late!"

"We've noticed. Care to explain?"

"Not to you." Wilson crossed his arms.

"Then to whom?" Maxwell inquired, raising his voice slightly.

"Nobody!" Wilson snapped. "...nobody can know."

"And why's that?" Maxwell raised an eyebrow. He didn't actually expect he'd get somewhere with this stubborn mule of a man.

Wilson was silent. That's when Maxwell noticed the several injuries on Wilson's body. He saw there were red marks on his face and bruises littering his arms and hands.

"What the hell kind of creature mauled you?" The dapper man raised both brows and pointed with a finger to Wilson's bruised appendages.

"Lack of self-care." Wilson smiled weakly and laughed.

"I can see that." Came the reply and without thinking, the taller man hoisted Wilson up and began to carry him back to the base.

"W-what are you doing?!" Wilson asked, panic creeping into his voice. "Put me down!"

"I'll do nothing of the sort." Maxwell pursed his lips. "Tonight, you're going to let Wes heal you and Wigfrid feed you. You don't have to tell us what's eating away at you, all right? I'll tell the others to lay off. But for now, at least get something good into your system. God knows you've been probably living off wild carrots and berries lately, right? I haven't noticed any food missing recently."

Wilson blushed with embarrassment. "I didn't think you'd notice."

"Well, you're thinner, too. That's part of it."

"You're awfully observant." Wilson commented. Maxwell didn't reply. The two traveled together in awkward silence and Wilson closed his eyes, sleep taking over him. He felt himself being dropped cruelly on the ground and heard footsteps running closer and shouting, but was too tired to care. All he heard was the sound of a feminine voice requesting healing salves and he was out cold.


	2. Chapter 2- His Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilson begins the recovery process and realizes how much he's missed out on by not sticking around the base camp.

Wilson awoke to the sound of several people talking in rushed, worried voices. His hands and legs throbbed and the smells of medicine and meat stew filled his nose. He tried to sit up, but a firm hand pressed against his chest, moving him back down.

"Easy, Wilson." Wigfrid's rough, accented voice crooned softly in a gentle and almost motherly way. "You've been out for almost half the night. Take it easy."

"What happened?" Wilson mumbled and instantly regretted it, as his threat felt raw and dry. Apparently the water he had consumed either wasn't the cleanest or wasn't enough to quench him.

"You passed out at the front of the base. Wes put healing salve on your wounds and Wickerbottom and I made soup for you. No, no, don't sit up. I'll help you."

Wilson opened his mouth to protest but decided it was useless as Wigfrid raised the spoon to his lips, tilting her wrist slightly to allow the liquid to pour down the scientist's throat.

He had to admit, it was much better than anything he could ever make himself, at least not without a crockpot. The broth was just the right temperature–not too hot, not too cold–and it contained the perfect ratio of carrots to chunks of meat. Wilson could tell this wasn't just morsels of meat, either. This was real, actual meat, likely from a catcoon or possibly even Beefalo. Wilson would be more than impressed if he found out Wigfrid had managed to take down even one on her own, but not necessarily surprised.

"Feeling better?" Wigfrid asked after the scientist had downed the last spoonful.

Wilson nodded weakly. "Definitely." He croaked out with a smile. "That was amazing."

"I'm sure Miss Wickerbottom will be more than happy to hear it." There was an unusual cheeriness in her voice as she said this. Maybe it was relief. Wilson was too tired to tell.

The man simply nodded in response, still a bit too weary to do much else. Wigfrid got up to dispose of the bowl and spoon and Wilson's eyes met those of Wes', who was sitting by the fire pit not too far away. Wes smiled, obviously relieved to see the other was okay, and made his way over. He sat down next to Wilson and produced a piece of papyrus and a pen constructed from a twig, some berries for ink, and a red bird feather.

How are you feeling? He wrote and showed the paper to Wilson.

Wilson smiled at the mime's concern. "Better than I was earlier."

That's good. Wes wrote. Why have you been so busy? Did we do something wrong?

Wilson shook his head as frantically as he could muster. "A-absolutely not! What makes you think that?"

Wes' smile faded. You never so much as talk to anyone here anymore. You're always off doing...god knows what. I can tell even Wendy's become upset because of it. She sees you as a father, you know.

"...does she?" Wilson's eyes widened. "Oh...I'm sorry..." He hadn't been paying attention to how anyone else was feeling. Not that he really had time, anyway.

What is it, then, if not us? Wes looked at him curiously.

Wilson shook his head. "I can't tell you, Wes. I'm sorry. It's not...anyone's concern but my own. Please understand."

Well, you might as well tell us. The further you slip into your problems, the further everyone else slips into worry. Wilson was surprised at how fast and yet how neatly Wes could write in English. Then again, that was usually what he wrote in since no one else here could understand the language except for Woodie and Wickerbottom. The only time Wilson had ever seen Wes write in French was when he spied the mime and Woodie passing a piece of paper back and forth and writing. They appeared to be flirting. Wickerbottom looked over their shoulders to see what they were doing, went three shades paler in the face, and kept walking like nothing happened.

"Good point. Just...please give me some time to recover, okay?" Wilson said, feeling exhaustion catch up to him. "Thanks for healing me, by the way."

Wes nodded. You're welcome. Get well soon. He wrote a little heart at the end of the sentence and handed Wilson the paper as he left the other man to fall asleep. Wilson smiled at the little heart the mute had written in and folded the paper, setting it in the dirt next to him. He curled up close to the stone wall of the base and attempted to fall asleep.

Sleep he did, but he dreamed something rather strange. As his body relaxed against the vine-covered walls, his mind painted a wonderfully elaborate but mildly disturbing picture for him. He stood in the cave where he'd originally freed Maxwell a long, long time ago. Well, it didn't feel that long to Wilson, but time was a mysterious and fickle little thing. It felt so real, as if he was really standing there, the ominous black shadows threatening to swallow him whole with his only defense being his torch. He stepped forward and immediately he was faced with the shadow throne, but there was something horribly off about it. There was no music, only an eerie, bone-chilling silence. The throne had been raised some distance off the ground with only a sort of terrace supporting it and a railed black staircase leading up to it. Various potted plants surrounded it. They appeared to be filled with roses and spiky plants.

For a moment, Wilson thought he saw a woman dressed in black on the throne, but in a split second, she had disappeared. In her place sat a red feather the same color as the roses in the potted plants.

Wilson dared to step forward. The bottoms of his shoes clicked loudly against the tile (he assumed it was tile, anyway) of the staircase. He reached the top and dared to reach out to grab the feather, but then he felt a hand abruptly grab him on the shoulder. Wilson flinched hard and turned around, immediately locking eyes with the one standing behind him.

Maxwell.

"You can't keep this away from us forever, you know." His voice sounded so clear, so real, that for an instant Wilson wanted to scream and ask what happened and why he had come back here, but the words caught in his throat. The next thing he knew, he shot up in his tent, sweating and on the verge of crying out for help.

He panted heavily as he tried to recover from the ridiculously realistic dream he'd just had. As he came to his senses, he found that his wounds didn't nearly hurt as bad as before and couldn't help but wonder if Wes had slipped extra spider glands into his healing salves. The scientist also noticed that this was not where he'd fallen asleep the night before and wondered who could have moved him here. He stumbled out of his tent and noticed his clothes were extremely dirty and a little torn at the edges.

"When the hell did I let this happen to myself?!" He thought, appalled with himself for being so careless. Even in the darkest emotional times, you were still supposed to take care of yourself, right? Wilson suddenly became embarrassed, first because everyone had seen him like this and second because he was being so self-absorbed it would be laughable to anyone who knew how he felt.

For a moment, Wilson thought of sneaking out again, but he felt someone grab the exact same shoulder that was grabbed in his dream and he flinched even harder than he had then.

"Don't even think about leaving." Wickerbottom warned him. "You're taking it easy for now, mister."

"Yes, ma'am." Wilson sighed at his plan being foiled. Wickerbottom withdrew her hand.

"Sorry, was that spot in pain? You flinched rather hard when I touched you."

Wilson shook his head. "No, just...bad dream. I'm still a bit jumpy."

"I see." Wickerbottom nodded. "Then, I suppose, go get your bandages changed and, if you can, help start breakfast."

Wilson nodded and noticed he could walk with less effort now that the medication had done its job. He wandered over to where Wolfgang and Wes stood by the crockpot menagerie, preparing the morning meal for everyone.

"Good morning, Wilson." Wolfgang's thick Russian accent pierced Wilson's ears. Wes simply nodded with a smile.

"Hey..." Wilson also noticed his throat felt much better. "What are we making?"

"Jam. It's what we got." Wolfgang shrugged and handed Wilson a pouch full of freshly harvested berries. Wilson began to wonder what everyone had been doing while he was away, and that put him into perspective of just how distant he was from everyone else.

"Right. Okay." Wilson got to work helping the other two add berries to the pots and he decided he'd find a way to manufacture some bread since eating straight jam was still a bit strange to him even after all this time.

"Wigfrid already gone." Wolfgang said in his broken English. "Went to hunt. Hope she don't get hurt."

"Neither do I." Wilson nodded in agreement, thinking back to how she treated him last night. He wondered why she'd suddenly grown soft on him. She wasn't usually like that at all.

Wes tapped Wolfgang's shoulder and pointed to the tents. Wendy and Webber had woken up and stumbled over to the fire pits.

"Morning..." Wendy mumbled, rubbing her eyes. Webber seemed to be wide awake.

"Good morning!" He called, a bit loudly. Wendy tapped his shoulder and whispered for him to keep it down and he nodded.

"Sorry."

"It's okay." Wendy rubbed the side of her head.

"Do you have a headache?" Wilson asked her. Wendy shook her head.

"Just need to wake up is all."

"I see."

The adults dished out the jam as the rest of the residents woke up, save for Wigfrid, who was well on her way to complete her daily hunting rounds by now.

"I'm a bit surprised you're still here, Wilson." Wendy commented over breakfast.

"Wendy," Wickerbottom chastised. "Be polite."

"No, it's okay. I'm still too injured to go anywhere, so even if I wanted to leave, I couldn't." Wilson laughed nervously, putting extra emphasis on 'wanted'. He noticed Maxwell was eyeing him strangely but decided to ignore it. After everyone was done, they parted ways to complete their daily tasks; harvesting the garden, crafting needed materials, fighting off spiders (much to the dislike of Webber), and other such chores. When Wilson went to stand, he was stopped by none other than Wickerbottom.

"Ah, ah. Don't you think about leaving." She warned. "I'm having Wes and Wolfgang watch over you for the day to make sure you don't try anything funny. Your wounds are still healing, after all."

Wilson nodded. "I didn't plan on it anyway." He shrugged.

Wickerbottom stared him down for a bit before sitting down for breakfast as well. Everyone ate in silence, with Webber finishing first and Wendy being the last. The two went off to play hide and seek in the garden and Wilson warned them to watch out for bees. There he sat, by the fire, as per Wickerbottom's instructions for most of the morning. Occasionally Wes applied more medicine to his wounds, but by now they were looking much better. Wilson figured he wouldn't need medication the next few days, even though it still hurt to move around.

The day passed slowly for the scientist, as there wasn't much to do. Wendy wasn't much of a conversationalist and Webber WOULD have been there with her if not for the fact that today he was in charge of handling the spider farm. Despite the fact that he was part spider himself, he seemed to have no issue with killing his own kind. This, Wilson supposed, was in part why Wendy got along so well with him; they both seemed relatively unfazed by death. As the day droned on, Wilson began to notice things that even before he began moping about he didn't see in the others. For example, he overheard a conversation between Wickerbottom and Wolfgang, in which Wolfgang stated that he preferred his meatballs made with a touch of monster meat, followed by Wickerbottom warning him about its effects on his sanity. He also saw Wes surprise Webber with a spider-shaped balloon animal later in the day. Webber adored it and it even got a smile out of Wendy, who remarked that it was lovely. Wes seemed content with their reaction, even though Wilson knew it had taken a toll on the mime's sanity. Sitting there, Wilson couldn't help but wonder just how much he had missed by being absent from the base.

The question bothered him for most of the day as he watched his campmates come and go, not moving due to Wickerbottom's warning that it may screw up the healing process. Wilson thought that was utter BS, but there was no use in disobeying her. It gave him some time for thought, anyway, a privilege that he did not receive often. 

It was a relatively nice day, for autumn. Winter would be coming soon, and everyone knew it. Everyone except for Wilson, apparently. The incoming change of season had not come to his attention recently, and it made him wonder if he was really so thickheaded as to have let that pass him by so easily. The sun felt nice on his bare skin and a gentle breeze blew against his face and through his hair, and god, did it feel wonderful. His injuries and the low throbbing sensation given off by his blistered hands were forgotten as he closed his eyes and quickly snapped them back open. 

'Just a moment...' He quickly looked around the camp. 'One, two, three... where's Maxwell?'

The scientist pursed his lips. 'So they'll excuse his absence, but not mine.' He thought disdainfully. Then again, Maxwell could actually take care of himself, Wilson thought with a bitter smile. He shrugged to himself. 

Just then, he remembered something. He'd left a pack at the makeshift lab he'd set up a bit of a ways away from the camp. It contained various gems and some other materials including a strange staff-like object he found in a chest. These were items he planned to inspect closer, and he figured that if he was going to be stuck here with these injuries he might as well do SOMETHING with his time. 

It would just take a moment for Wilson to get there if he stuck to the roads. No one would even notice he was gone. He saw Wigfrid come back a moment ago, inventory full of meat, and knew that there'd be next to no risk of him being caught with everyone preparing dinner. As soon as he heard the sound of the crockpots being opened, he shot out through the gap in the stone walls, not bothering to look behind him. He made it about halfway there before he heard the sounds of twigs cracking and froze dead in his tracks. 

'Crap.' What a genius he was for completely skipping out on bringing a decent weapon. In fact, he had virtually nothing on him, and injured hands would be a huge bitch to fight with. He slowly began to tread backwards the way he came before he bumped into a tall, thin figure behind him. Wilson flinched hard before two hands rested themselves on the smaller man's trembling shoulders.


	3. Chapter 3: His Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maxwell and Wilson have a little chat.

"Wilson, it's just me." Maxwell said softly. There was an almost soothing tone in the other's voice. The scientist relaxed some, but not much. Something seemed off here.

"What do you want?" The smaller man asked shakily.

"Did you honestly think no one would see you run out?" Maxwell shook his head, removing his hands from the other's shoulders. "Tut, tut. I expected more from a so-called brilliant scientist such as yourself, Mr. Higgsbury."

Wilson bit his lip. "I just needed to..uh..."

"Don't have a good enough excuse?" Maxwell teased with a smirk. "Might as well be honest, since no one else is here to listen to us. And besides, I won't tell, so just say what you're doing out here, alright?"

Wilson swallowed hard and turned around to face Maxwell, shaking a little but trying to hide it. The taller man had the most ridiculous grin plastered to his face, and for a split second Wilson had the urge to lunge out and slap it off the other's face. However, the impulse was gone as soon as it had come.

"I left supplies at the area I set up for my experiments." He said as flatly as he could muster.

Maxwell nodded. "Well, alright. While you're here, there was something I wanted to ask you for myself. Would you mind staying out a little longer?"

Wilson shook his head. He wasn't sure why.

"Fine, but can we walk while we talk? I need those supplies."

Maxwell's smirk changed to a slightly kinder smile and reached into his inventory, producing a grass backpack from it. Wilson took it and gave the other a glare, thinking at first it would be a trap of some sort, like he'd filled every inch of the bag with bees. When he opened it, however, he saw that the bag was the exact same one as the one he'd left at his makeshift camp, containing each and every one of the supplies he'd been set on grabbing.

He opened his mouth to speak but all that came out was a very quiet woah. He looked up at the dapper man.

"How did you...?" But the look on the other's face said that Wilson wouldn't be getting his answer anytime soon.

"Don't worry about it." Maxwell waved off the subject. "But seriously, even though you already have that bag, there is something I'd still like to talk with you about."

Wilson swallowed again, slinging the backpack over his shoulders. "Uh...okay?" Again, something here didn't seem right. Maxwell was being oddly kind to him tonight. That wasn't natural. He would have expected this more from Wendy than from him.

"Right, then. I guess, sit down." The scientist did so, cautiously, in case a tooth trap had been planted specifically under his ass or something by Maxwell. Surprisingly for him, the pain of having countless teeth being driven into his behind never came. Maxwell sat down with him too.

"If you're not going to let your friends in on what's been bugging you," Maxwell said firmly, "Tell me."

For a moment, Wilson was completely frozen. Tell him of all people such a personal thing? Absolutely not. But for some reason he felt like Maxwell could be trusted here. After all, he'd gone through the trouble of getting that bag for him. The least he could do was open up at little.

"Promise me you will never, EVER tell the others." Wilson found himself utter in a dead serious whisper to the other. Maxwell nodded.

Wilson sighed and ran his bruised, calloused fingers through his knotted black hair. He wasn't sure if he was tired, or if he was just sick of holding it all in, but the next thing the scientist knew, he was confiding the secret that had broken his mental health in the man that had given him nothing but hell for an undocumented and unholy amount of time.

"Alright, so ever since I was born, my parents knew there was something wrong with me." He began after inhaling a deep, shaky breath. "I didn't make eye contact with them or speak for a long time, and when I did start talking, I used my words...er...at a rather advanced level. I also had a tendency--oh, who am I kidding, I still do this--to find something I was interested in and latch onto it for a long time. I'd become obsessed with it. The only good thing I think that ever came out of that was it was easy for me to be entertained. The first thing I was ever obsessed with was probably the weirdest of them all...it was how the boards in the house all fit together." The smaller man laughed, a little bitterly. "Most of our house was made from wooden boards, and I used to go around and try to literally tear these boards out of the floors and walls and occasionally succeeded. My parents thought I was undisciplined and a freak, but I didn't care how many times I got yelled at or hit for it. I just wanted to learn things for myself, you know?" He shrugged and gave Maxwell a sideways glance.

To his surprise, the other nodded.

He tried not to let this faze him. "Well, as a result of me being so eccentric from a young age, I didn't have any friends at all until I was around nine years old." He bit his lip. No going back. "That's when my little sister was born."

"Ah." Maxwell raised his eyebrows. "You have a sister."

"That's right." Wilson nodded. "Her name was Willow. Willow Petunia Higgsbury." He laughed again. "My parents really weren't the most creative when it came to naming." He shrugged. "Anyway, after she was born, we were basically inseparable. In fact, I think it's safe to say I spent more time with her than our parents ever did combined!" He smiled, but that faded, and he shuddered at the mention of his parents.

"Is everything alright?" Maxwell asked.

"...our parents weren't the best to us." Wilson pulled his knees up to his chest. "They hated me, Father especially, for not wanting to study law and make money for the family. They hated Willow for standing up for me and feared I'd 'ruin her chances of becoming a proper lady' if I spent too much time around her." Wilson snorted and rolled his eyes. "If you ask me, though, she never had a chance at that. That just wasn't who she was, you know? She developed a weird interest in fire when she was just a toddler. One time, she wandered straight into the fireplace and didn't take a bit of damage. None." He looked over at Maxwell with wide eyes. "To this day, the event still amazes me." He figured the man probably didn't believe him, though, and decided not to dwell on it.

He cleared his throat. "So...despite mum and Father not really approving of Willow's interest in me or fire, they got her a lighter for her sixth birthday. I was fifteen then. I remember the way her eyes lit up, no pun intended, when she saw it. She was so happy. She kept it ever since and took better care of it than anything else she owned. In fact, it was still working when I last saw her." A fond grin spread across Wilson's lips and he chuckled, looking up at the dusk sky.

"I take it you two were close." Maxwell said quietly, a bit amazed. He'd never seen the scientist like this before, so happy and relaxed. He'd always been so tensed and panicked.

"We were." The smile on the other's lips faded. "Our bond was tested the day I was thrown out."

Maxwell's eyebrows raised with interest. "Thrown out."

Wilson nodded. "Father's idea. He said he was sick of me being around if I wasn't going to contribute to the family, and they made me leave while Willow watched. God, how old was I then? At least twenty-five. I don't know my own age now, but that's how old I was then. Now, Willow and I were all the other had. No one on our street, or anywhere in London for that matter, wanted to hang out with...the Freak Twins is what they called us despite our nearly ten-year age difference. I guess it's because we bore such close resemblance to one another. So when Willow, a pyromaniac since birth, watched her only companion get thrown out, what do you think she did about it?"

Maxwell thought about it for a while and then remembered what Wilson said earlier about most of their house being made from boards. "No."

"Yes." The grin was back on Wilson's face, but this one was more proud than anything. "I was about a half mile away from home when I smelled something burning. I looked back to where I had come from and saw smoke and hints of flames spreading to the other houses surrounding ours. I knew it was only one person who could have started that fire, and immediately felt better. But I thought she died in the fire, and kept running through the streets. Eventually, I found room in the basement of an old shoemaker, where I distracted myself with science, but eventually had to move out since I was broke as shite and couldn't pay rent. That's when I hauled ass to an old cabin in the woods, and that's where I heard your voice on the radio." He sighed, his lip quavering. "I tried to distract myself from Willow's death with science, then, too. Then I came here and I had more stuff to worry about and...god, it was so hard not to cry thinking about it. It really took a toll on my sanity, if you couldn't tell." Hot tears itched at the corners of Wilson's eyes, burning to get out.

"...I see." Maxwell had gotten eerily quiet.

Wilson nodded, his breathing becoming uneven. "When I joined this world with you and everyone else, I couldn't think about it anymore. I was so busy. And then recently, I remembered, 'Oh, hey, your lifelong companion is dead! Or she probably is, anyway! Either way, you're never gonna fucking see her again!' And I can't help but feel like there's something I could have done..." Tears were streaming down Wilson's face now. His words were becoming a bit slurred, and he hiccuped occasionally. "You have no idea what I'd give to see Willow again. I love her so much..." He buried his face in his arms and began to sob, trembling hard and whimpering like a hurt puppy.

Maxwell had no idea how to react. Yes, Wilson had used his fair share of curse words, but he rarely used fuck. It was only reserved for times of extreme frustration or pain, and all Max could do was assume that that's what the other was feeling. Carefully, he wrapped his arm around the other's shoulder.

"Hey, it's alright, pal..." He tried to sound as soothing as possible, but this felt so awkward. "She did that because she loved you too, you know. I don't know if that helps any, but...if she did die, she did it for you." He attempted to keep his voice as soothing as possible. It actually seemed to work. Wilson relaxed a bit at the feeling of the other's arm around his shoulder, and his sobbing ceased quicker than expected.

"Th-thank you." Wilson hiccuped, wiping tears from his eyes. The two seemed to forget their rivalry in that moment as Wilson leaned into the other's shoulder, still trembling slightly.

"Do you know what that's like, Maxwell? To lose the person in your life that you're closest to?" Wilson's voice sounded a bit hoarse.

The dapper man looked off into the distance, thinking. "Yes. Maybe she wasn't as close to me as your sister was to you, but I've felt it, too."

Wilson nodded. "Sucks, doesn't it?"

Maxwell nodded too. "Yeah...it really does."

The two sat there in silence for the longest time, Wilson's head against Maxwell's shoulder, the smaller quietly sniffling every now and then as he tried to calm down and the taller man's mind racing as he stared off into space. Wilson had to admit, it felt kind of nice. The comfort was really needed, even if it was from someone he didn't really like. To be honest, though, after this, Wilson wasn't sure he'd ever be able to say he completely hated this man again, even after all the shit they'd put each other through.

Night fell quicker than the two had originally anticipated. Maxwell quickly fashioned a torch from sticks and grass and stood up, helping a tired and shaky Wilson to his feet. The two knew they were in for a lecture when they got back, ESPECIALLY Wilson, but neither really cared. The scientist knew that the would get questioned for why he looked like he'd cried an entire river and where the bag came from and why he was out so late with Maxwell of all people, but the only thing on Wilson's conscious mind was crawling into his tent and passing out, maybe for the rest of his existence if he could manage it.

As expected, Wigfrid and Wickerbottom were the first two to start talking when Maxwell returned, practically dragging Wilson along at this point.

"Where have you BEEN?!"

"We were worried sick!"

"Oh, God, did Wilson get hurt again? You dumbass! What did you do!?" Wigfrid grabbed Wilson's chin roughly. "You've been crying. What's wrong?"

Maxwell placed a hand on Wigfrid's wrist and she immediately retracted her grasp. "No need for that, Wigfrid. He's tired. Just let him go to his tent and get some sleep." He let go of Wilson as well and watched as the scientist simply nodded at the group and slunk off to bed. "He's going to need it." He mumbled to himself after he saw Wilson get all the way inside of his tent.

"Excuse me. He's going to need what?" Wickerbottom asked, arms folded across her chest.

"His sleep. Don't worry about him sneaking out, by the way. I've handled it." The scientist heard Maxwell reply curtly as he pulled back the flap of his tent, crawling inside and immediately passed out on the bedding underneath him.


	4. Chapter 4- His Companion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilson wakes up to a little surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Very quickly, I wanted to say that I was planning on adding illustrations to this. However, I'm very busy and as much as I'd love to draw for this, I don't have much time. I was wondering if any of you would be interested in creating some drawings of your own to go with already existing parts of the story, and I'll take care of the rest from here. If you're interested, please message your art to me or tag me in it on tumblr. The name to tag is @someone-im-close-to-fanfic. Please include a quote from the story that goes with your drawing so I know where to put it! Thank you!
> 
> Also, HUGE thanks to everyone who's left comments and kudos so far! It's really inspired me to keep going. Thank you again!

The next morning, Wilson was awoken by the sounds of panicked yelling outside. He awoke slowly and felt a breeze against the side of his face. He looked to the side and found that the side of the tent had been lifted a little. He looked to the other side and saw that his backpack had been taken off and was pushing against the side of the tent, causing it to lean. Huh. He didn't remember taking it off last night....

"Wilson? Are you awake?" A Canadian voice with a hint of a French accent was heard as the flap of Wilson's tent was pulled back. It was Woodie.

"Am now." The scientist mumbled groggily.

"Get up. Dude, the weirdest fuckin' thing just happened. Everyone's freaking out." The Canadian said urgently.

Wilson rubbed his eyes. "I can hear that." He stretched his limbs out for a moment. "Alright, alright, I'll be out in a second." He yawned and Woodie stepped back as the scientist stepped out of his tent. 

"Hey..." He noticed that Wigfrid, Wes, Wolfgang, and the Webber/Wendy duo were standing not too far off from where the tents were located. "What's going on out here?"

"Morning, Wilson." Wigfrid flashed him a kind smile before her face fell back into a worried shape. "To be honest, I dunno. We heard something thumping around outside camp and then a scream, and for some reason they told me to stay back while they went to check it out."

"They?" Wilson eyed the full crowd of a well over half the current residents of their rather impressive base camp. 

"Wickerbottom and Maxwell!" Wigfrid stamped her foot and groaned with frustration. "I don't get it! They're both so frail! If they get hit by something really dangerous, you know they're both done for." It was obvious to Wilson that the redhead only cared about Wickerbottom, though. Everyone knew that she and Maxwell didn't really get along...at all. 

Wilson was about to press further when the sound of heavy panting became audible, like someone was running hard. He looked from Wigfrid over to the gap between wall fragments that served as an entryway and his jaw nearly dropped. A woman leaned against the side of the wall, one arm propping her up, her face turned toward the ground. Her clothes consisted of a collared red long-sleeved shirt, black pleated skirt, Mary Jane shoes, and white socks. Her attire was wrinkled and dirty, as if she hadn't had access proper shelter or a clean change of clothes in a while. Her hair was thick and a sleek black color, pulled behind her head into two pigtails that curled to form a "W". Her square bangs covered her face as she looked down. 

The scientist's breath hitched and he dared to take a step forward. The woman looked up, revealing a face with wide eyes and a small nose. 

"Willow?" The word was caught in the scientist's throat and came out choked.

The woman's eyes widened. "Wilson?" She stood up all the way and the two looked each other up and down.

"No fucking way." A large, goofy smile spread across Wilson's lips, and the person named Willow reciprocated the action.

"Oh my god!" The two ran toward each other and threw their arms around the other in a tight hug, collapsing to the ground on their knees. It hurt Wilson to do so, but the pain was overlooked.

"Holy shit, Willow, it's really you!" Wilson began to tremble and a lump formed in his throat. 

"Y-yeah, who else would it be, silly?" Willow smiled and buried her face in her brother's shoulder. "I thought I'd never see you again..."

"I thought you were dead!" The words came out of Wilson's throat shakily, and his voice cracked near the end. "I thought you died when you burned down t-the house..." He choked up and began to cry. "G-god, I'm so happy to see you..." 

"I'm happy to see you, too." Willow's voice was calmer, sweeter, quieter and she began to cry too.

"Uh..." Everyone else backed up, a little awkwardly. Maxwell and Wickerbottom came back through the entrance a moment after the two broke down.

"Well, damn." Wigfrid crossed her arms. "Uh...hey, you two, stop crying for a sec, will ya?"

"Wigfrid!" Wickerbottom chastised. "Let them have their moment!" 

Wilson sniffled and pulled away from Willow, but only slightly. "Hey, stand up." He urged quietly, wiping his sister's eyes and helping her to her feet. Willow brushed off her skirt with the hand that wasn't locked on to one of Wilson's and looked at Wilson, at the two standing by the entry, to the crowd gazing at them in awe, and then back at Wilson for an explanation.

Wilson smiled. "Everyone, this is my little sister, Willow." He gestured to the woman standing next to him. She smiled a little and waved shyly. Everyone gazed at her in awe. Webber and Wendy had hidden behind the mighty Wolfgang when they saw her come in, but now Webber stepped out from behind him.

"Hello!" He waved politely. Willow screamed and clung to her big brother's arm.

"Is that a spider?!" She reached into her inventory and grabbed her lighter. Wilson was surprised to see it was still intact. 

"Technically, I'm half-spider, yes." Webber nodded.

"Wilson..." The woman looked over at her brother. "Is that even scientifically possible?" She whispered. 

Wilson laughed. "My dear, you'll see that a lot of what goes on around here seems to defy the laws of science. Webber is just an example of one."

"Webber..." She repeated and put her lighter away. "H-hello there." She dared to let go of Wilson's arm and slowly extended a hand for him to shake. Webber took it and shook back eagerly. 

"I didn't know you had a sister, Mr. Higgsbury!" He commented. Willow looked over at him. 

"You never told them about me?" The shock and hurt in her voice was nearly enough to make Wilson tear up again. The pyromaniac let go of Webber's hand.

"Well?" She crossed her arms.

"No, I didn't." Wilson admitted. "Like I said, I thought you were dead."

"Well, I'm more than a little offended that you didn't so much as mention me!" She bit her lip. 

"It hurt too much to talk about, okay!?" Wilson retorted and turned his head away. 

An awkward silence nearly choked everyone to death for what felt like too long for Wilson. 

"...I'm sorry." He looked back at his sister and said. "I mean it."

"I don't doubt you." Willow looked back at him too. "I'm too glad to see you to be properly pissed off."

The two chuckled nervously and Willow looked back to the group. 

"Hey, the rest of you still haven't introduced yourselves!" She said rather cheerily. "Come on, now, it's okay. I don't bite, only burn!" She joked. 

Everyone took turns telling Willow their names. During this process, he noticed Maxwell was skipped over and that the dapper man was giving him a strange look that he didn't quite know how to read. Then again, expression-reading had never been the scientist's strong point. He assumed it had something to do with his disorder.

Willow was a bit confused when Wes didn't speak as he held out his hand. Wilson explained to her that he was mute and was a mime as a coping mechanism.

"Oh! Nice to meet you, Wes!" She smiled sweetly at him and shook his hand. Wes smiled too and Wilson felt confident his sister had made a friend already. 

Wigfrid was the last one to introduce herself, and as she took Willow's hand, her face turned the same color as her red curls of hair. 

"N-nice to meet you, ma'am!" She said in a slightly dramatic tone. She curtseyed and Wilson noticed she struggled to keep eye contact with Willow as she spoke. "I-I'm Wigfrid! P-pleasure to meet you!" 

"Hello, Wigfrid." Wilson also noticed his sister did not reciprocate the nervousness. "I like your hat."

Instead of correcting her and saying it was a "battle helm", as she called it, Wigfrid's eyes lit up and her cheeks seemed to get darker in color. 

"T-thank you!" She stuttered. Everyone exchanged glances and Wilson couldn't help but wonder if Willow was thinking what the rest of them were. 

"So, Willow." Wilson took his sister's hand again. "Now that we're all acquainted, why don't we show you around?"

"Show me around?" Willow cocked her head. "Oh. Oh. I suppose there's no going back to London from here, is there?" 

Wilson shook his head. "Nope. We're here forever, as far as we know. Don't worry, it's nice here! The air is much better and so is the food! There's no disease or bustling city life or shitty parents to kick us out, or-" Wilson stopped when he realized what he said and saw everyone was staring at him slack-jawed, save for Maxwell, who continued giving him that strange look. The scientist made a note to confront him about that later. In the meantime, Willow looked like she was going to slap her brother unconscious. 

"Er...forget that last part." Wilson cleared his throat. "C-come on, then, let's get you settled in..." He led his sister away from the group and off to the berry garden.

"Excuse me." Willow crossed her arms. "Bringing up our parents in front of them?! Way to make an impression!"

"I'll have you know I was the first--er, second one here! I've already made my fair share of an impression!"

"I meant for me!" She groaned, exasperated. "Wilson, I love you, but God's sake! Really?" 

"Come on, sis, they'll forget it eventually." Wilson rolled his eyes. "I'm sure some of them are too interested in trying to be your friend to care." 

Willow raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"Of course! Everyone seems to love you! Wendy's a bit withdrawn towards everyone and Wolfgang, as big as he is, is just shy. Come on, now. You saw how Wigfrid reacted to you." He smirked. "I think you two will get along just fine."

Willow smiled at this. "Yeah, I think so too. And I like Wes. He seems nice."

"He is. Everybody loves him, believe me." Wilson placed a hand on Willow's upper back. "Hey, if you're nervous that they'll find you weird, don't be. Our peculiarities are what make us similar, you know. Wendy carries a flower that contains the soul of her dead sister."

"Oh really?" His sister rolled her eyes. 

"Yeah. And Wickerbottom writes her own books all the time that can do things like summon flocks of birds. And Wolfgang gets stronger when he eats enough." 

Willow giggled. "That's ridiculous!" 

"I thought so, too, at first, but I'm sure everyone else will feel the same once they hear that you don't take fire damage."

Willow bit her lip. "Touche." She nodded and pointed toward the menagerie of berry bushes before them. "So you grow berries from all of these?"

Wilson nodded proudly. "Yes! We also have another garden where we grow more crops!"

Willow smiled. "Amazing. You all must be busy here."

"You bet!" Wilson laughed and pat his sister on the back. "There's so much I want to show you and such a little amount of time" He said, turning towards the other farms. "Come, now. I want this tour to be over before dinner. Wigfrid hunts meat for us daily, so this should be good."

Willow nodded and the two went off together, happier than they'd been in a long time.

~~

Dusk fell just as soon as the two made it back to the fire pits for dinner. Everyone fell silent when Willow sat down next to her brother on one of the logs set by the fire.

"So, how was it?" Woodie asked after a while. "T-the tour, I mean."

Willow nodded. "A very nice place, even if it's a bit rustic." She said, rolling back her sleeves. "I think I'll like it here a lot." She seemed fixated on the fire before her. "So pretty." She absentmindedly stuck her hand in it, turning it over a few times. 

"Willow!" Wilson grabbed her arm and pulled it out. Woodie sat across from them, jaw agape, and Wilson noticed a few more people staring, Wigfrid included.

"What? It didn't hurt. It's never hurt!" Willow groaned. "I love you, but sometimes you suck, you know that?"

"You don't just stick your hand in a fire! It doesn't matter if you'll take damage or not!" Wilson facepalmed. "Willow, you're really something else, you know that?"

Willow giggled. "Yep. You and me both."

Dinner was actually the opposite of what Wilson expected. Everyone wanted to speak with his sister, asking her just about every question about her they could think of.

"I see you like fire." Wendy remarked at one point. "Can you do anything special with it?"

"Not really. I just like setting things ablaze from time to time. It doesn't hurt me." Willow shrugged as if this was a completely normal thing.

"Amazing!" Wickerbottom remarked. 

Willow blushed. "Well, thank you." 

Wickerbottom smiled.

Wilson nudged his sister. "See what I mean when I say they'd like you?" He winked and took a bite of meatball. Willow blushed a little more. 

"Yeah, I guess you were right." She replied quietly.

Wilson chuckled. The rest of the dinner proceeded in silence. It was significantly darker when it was finished, but not necessarily nighttime yet.

"Wilson, I'm tired." She yawned and leaned against her brother's shoulder.

"I could tell. I was just about to ask about it, actually." He raised an eyebrow. "Your dark circles have gotten worse, you look paler than what I remember, and your hands tremble when you handle objects. Don't think I haven't noticed; I'm still sharp as ever."

"So I see." Willow chuckled. "I didn't think you would have noticed all that. It's getting late, anyway. Is there anywhere I'd be able to...?"

The scientist nodded. "You can sleep in my tent until we can erect one for you. Come on, you must have had a hell of a day."

"Believe me when I say I have." She chuckled and yawned again as Wilson helped her up.

"I'm going to hit the hay now, guys." Willow announced. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight." Mostly everyone replied. 

"Sleep well!" Wigfrid added. Willow smiled at her as Wilson led her to the tent.

"Here." He pulled back the flap and she got in, untying her hair from her pigtails. 

"It's been a while since I slept somewhere like this." Willow remarked, shaking her long black hair out. "There's a roof over my head and blankets under my back. Couldn't be any luckier." 

Wilson smiled and knelt down so they were eye-to-eye. "Sleep well. I'll be back in a bit." He kissed her on the cheek and Willow reciprocated the gesture before Wilson closed the tent and returned to the fire pits, where everyone else was cleaning up. Immediately the camp exploded into chatter.

"Dude, you didn't tell us you had siblings."

"Yeah, what's with that? Do you not trust us or something?"

"Woah, woah! It's not that I don't trust you all! I thought she was dead, alright, and it hurt to bring it up, like I said this morning! Oi!" Wilson held up two hands in defeat.

"Mr. Higgsbury!" Webber raised a fuzzy hand. "Can Wendy and I call her 'Aunt Willow'? It was Wendy's idea!"

"Was not!" Wendy said, aghast, or maybe embarrassed out of her mind. Wilson couldn't tell. Again, reading emotions was far from his strong suit.

"Whatever!" Webber shot back. 

"Hey, hey, no fighting. You can ask her when she wakes up. For now, let's be quiet, okay? We don't want to make it harder for her to sleep."

"Yes, sir." Wendy and Webber responded in unison. Wilson couldn't help but smile at how cute it was. 

"Ahem." Maxwell tapped Wilson on the shoulder. Wilson flinched. 

"What?" He looked back over at the dapper man, whose facial expression was flat and emotionless. 

"Come with me." Oh, great. Wilson rolled his eyes. 

"Alright." Wilson ignored the stares of the others as he followed Maxwell to the same place where the taller had been standing when the Higgsbury siblings were reunited. 

"So what's this about?" Wilson crossed his arms. "Are you going to murder me and then my sister? Because if you are, I'm going to personally come back and haunt the shit out of you if you so much as tweak a hair on her head."

Maxwell rolled his eyes. "What makes you think I'd pull a ridiculous stunt like that, Higgsbury?" He pursed his lips. "I'm genuinely hurt. Damn. I didn't realize you hated me that much."

Wilson bit his lower lip, a pang of guilt slapping him across the face. He wasn't supposed to care about how this person felt. He hated him.

No, no he didn't, Wilson thought as he reflected on the moment that this very same man had comforted him when he cried over his dear sister barely twenty-four hours ago.

"Sorry." The word escaped his throat naturally, as if it was an action of his subconscious mind.

"Apology accepted." Maxwell still averted eye contact, though.

"Seriously, though, what is it?" Wilson crossed his arms impatiently. 

Maxwell contemplated what he was going to say next for a moment. "So...if you found out who the person responsible for bringing your sister back to you was, what would you do to them?"

Wilson cocked his head. "Why?"

"Sheer curiosity." Maxwell replied right off the bat. "I saw the way you reacted to her today. I was just...wondering."

Wilson bit his lip and grinned. "I dunno. I'd probably either kiss them or marry them on the spot. Depends on what they wanted." He laughed. "But I doubt we'll ever know who that person was, if a person was even involved at all, so I guess it doesn't matter, right?" He chuckled.

Maxwell chuckled, too. "Yes, I suppose so." Wilson noticed that this man still would not look at him. 

The scientist nodded awkwardly. "So...is that all?"

Maxwell nodded, seemingly staring off into space. "Yeah."

"Well, goodnight, then." Wilson turned toward his tent and left Maxwell there. He pulled back the flap to the tent and saw Willow sleeping on her side peacefully. Smiling, he moved the backpack from last night out and left it by the outside so there would be room for him. Just as he let go of the tent flap, he thought he saw someone in a black dress standing in front of the tent, but in a fraction of a second the image was gone. He couldn't see her--well, maybe his, who said only women could wear dresses?--face, adding on to the creepiness of the illusion. Wilson tensed up with fear and curled up with his sister, falling asleep and dreaming a most interesting dream indeed.


	5. Chapter 5- His Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is decided to hold a celebration in honor of Willow's arrival.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra-long chapter (roughly 3,566 words, I believe) to make up for my absence these next few days. Sorry, school's a mess right now. I may not update again until this weekend. Please forgive me.

One moment, Wilson was curled up next to his sister in her tent. The next, he was standing again in the chasm from which he'd rescued Maxwell an innumerable amount of time ago. The place looked the same as how it was in his last dream. The stairs and the potted plants were still there, but no one was present except for him. He sucked in his breath as he surveyed his surroundings. All he saw was shadows and small flames flickering on the columns leading to the throne. He didn't dare make a sound, for fear that someone was watching him. Quietly as he could, he tiptoed forward a little, inspecting the throne closely. It looked about the same as the last time he'd seen it, and there was no red feather in the chair this time. 

"I must be dreaming." He thought to himself. 

Dreaming he was, but this was no ordinary dream. 

"if this really is a dream, I should be able to do whatever I want, right?" He reasoned and willed a torch to appear in his  hand. Nothing happened. He tried checking his inventory and there was nothing there. He tensed up, panic slowly beginning to trickle through his systems. 

"Come on, come on..." This time he said it aloud. No matter what he tried, he couldn't seem to manipulate a single aspect of this dream. He was rendered completely defenseless in an image developed by his own mind.

"Focus, Wilson." He told himself. By this point, he was completely aware he was dreaming. He just couldn't seem to do anything about it. Anything could happen, he figured, and he needed to be alert. 

Suddenly there was the sound of shoes clicking against the stony floor of the chasm. High-heeled shoes. Wilson bit his lip. The sound was coming from behind him, and he dared to turn around for a look. 

About five meters behind him stood a woman wearing the same dress he'd seen in an illusion earlier that day. Her face looked blurry, and shadows danced across it as she walked, so it was hard to tell what she looked like. Her hair was short and raven-black, identical to the color of Wilson and Willow's hair. on her head, she wore a little black hat, and in that hat was a red feather. 

Wilson drew in a sharp breath. "Who...who are you?" He choked out, his throat becoming dry. 

The woman simply smiled and raised a gloved hand into the air, snapping her fingers. In an instant the setting changed to a blinding white room. Wilson groaned at the sudden change of lighting and went to cover his eyes, but found he couldn't move his arms. They were frozen in front of him, holding something silver and metal. His eyes focused on the item his fingers were wrapped around. It was a gun.

He tried to will himself to wake up, or at the very least move, but he couldn't. He was frozen, and on the inside he was petrified of what this nightmare had in store for him.

A dainty hand touched him on the shoulder. The scientist could move his eyes, so he looked over and saw it was gloved in black, but he couldn't turn his head to see who it belonged to. 

"Do it." Said a voice. Wilson assumed it belonged to the person who owned the hand. Her voice was medium-pitched and American. He had to admit, it was slightly intimidating, as well. 

"Do what?" His voice cracked on the last syllable. 

The hand raised itself from Wilson's shoulder and pointed forward.

Oh, god. Wilson's eyes slowly moved to see what was in front of him. He felt his heart stop for a moment as he saw a person standing in front of him. Willow. 

"N-no!" Wilson said before he could stop himself. He heard a click and felt something metal against the side of his forehead. Another gun.

"Do it, and you live. Don't, and she watches you die." The feminine voice said. "Tell me, which one do you think is worse?"

Wilson tried to drop the gun. He really did. His fingers seemed to be glued to it, however. _'If this is someone's idea of a joke, it's not funny.'_ he thought as his breathing became more ragged with fear. 

"I don't know." He choked out. "Neither are good."

Wilson got a feeling that the woman behind him was smiling, like he'd seen her do in the chasm. "I see. You want to protect your sister, physically and mentally. However, you also value your own life, enough to make it hard for you to choose between killing her and risking your own life for her."

'When she puts it that way...' Wilson swallowed bravely. 'I know which one I choose.'

"You have ten seconds." The female voice announced, her voice echoing slightly in the nearly empty room. Wilson tried to be brave. At this point, he was beginning to question if this was really a dream from how real everything felt, from the sound of the woman's voice to the feeling of the cold barrel of the gun to his head. The scientist bit his lip as the woman began to count down.

"Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four..."

"Before you shoot me, tell me your name." Wilson interrupted her. She stopped. The room was dead silent, so much so that the scientist could almost feel it. 

"Three, two, one." _Click_. **_Bang_**. Everything went dark. Then Wilson shot up in his tent in a cold sweat, panting like he'd run a mile. His hands still felt cold from the gun.

"Willow!" He looked over and saw his little sister sleeping next to him. The woman stirred in her sleep and slowly opened her eyes. 

"Wilson?" She asked groggily, sitting up next to him. "Where am I...? Oh." She yawned. "I remember now. God, yesterday was a hell of a ride. How did you sleep?"

"Terrible." Her brother admitted. 

"Oh, was it because of me?" Her eyes widened. "I'm sorry. I should have slept outside-"

"No, no, it's not because of you necessarily, it was just..." Wilson shook his head. "Bad dream."

"Oh." Willow nodded and placed a hand over her brother's. "Wanna talk about it? Good god, your hands are sweating like mad!"

"I know." Wilson chuckled. "I'd really rather not. It was...really bad. I'm still shaken up." 

"I see." Willow nodded and squeezed his hand, shaking her thick black hair out. It had been so long since Wilson had seen her like this that he wondered if she was even the same person. "I didn't dream. This is the best I've slept since...ever." She chuckled.

"Yeah. Better than sleeping on hay in the attic, right?" Wilson chuckled, too, a bit shakily.

" _Much_ better." She leaned into his shoulder sleepily, smiling. "Hey, can we get something to eat? I'm starving."

"Well, that's not good, is it?" They both laughed. "Yeah, sure. Come on." He opened the flap of the tent and helped her out, and led her to the fire pits. "Let me see what we have. Eggs, berries, a bit of leftover meat...I guess grab whatever. No one's gonna mind."

The two settled on some berries and ate by the burned-out fire pits silently. 

"Funny, usually everyone's awake by now." Wilson commented on how empty the place was without anyone awake.

"I see. Doesn't that girl, Wigfrid, leave early to gather meats, though? So she should at least be awake." Willow said.

"You're right. Hey, how do you feel about her?" Wilson asked.

Willow shrugged. "She seems nice. A bit too polite, but that's okay. I like her, but I don't really know anyone here well enough yet."

"Well enough for what?" Wilson raised an eyebrow at her. She blushed.

"To, er, be properly considered friends with her, of course." She laughed nervously. Wilson smirked. 

"Well, if you say so." He said, just as someone shuffled out of their tent.

"Oh. Good morning, you two." It was Wickerbottom. 

"Morning, ma'am." The two said in unison, surprising both themselves and the old woman with how in sync they were. She simply nodded in response. 

The day went by slowly for Wilson. He wanted to work on the items in his bag, which still sat outside the tent, but it was quickly forgotten once everyone had awoken. Immediately the others set t heir attention on Willow and tried to make conversation with her, trying to win her approval and become her friend. Wigfrid was out, so she was spared her attention. The only person who didn't seem interested was Maxwell.

Throughout the day, Wilson involuntarily caught himself looking at Maxwell, who never seemed to be looking back, at least not that Wilson could see. He was staring off like he was last night. It appeared there was something on his mind. He would ask about it later, but for now he had to make sure no one would be acting too weird toward Willow. 

No one got anything done that day, which was perfectly fine. They weren't particularly short of resources, anyway. Webber mentioned Wendy's idea of calling Willow their "Aunt" and she seemed delighted by it.

"Do you call Wilson your uncle?" She asked the two children. Webber shook his head. 

"No, we just call him Mr. Higgsbury." He shrugged then smiled. "Between you and me, though, I think Wendy would want to call him her father."

"Stop telling people that!" Wendy gave Webber a shove and the started fighting.

"H-hey, calm down, you two!" Willow pulled the two apart gently. Wilson was surprised at how calm she was, since she'd had a pretty bad temper most of her life. At the very least, he at least expected her to mention a punishment for them if they kept up, but apparently not. She really clicked with all these people, and that made him feel a little proud.

'That person, right there, the one who everybody loves? That's my sister.' He smiled at this thought. Back home, people would have teased her relentlessly for any reason they could think of, especially when she was little. He only wished the street bullies could see her now, surrounded by people who loved her and were genuinely interested in her.

He watched Willow and Wickerbottom exchange trivia facts, Wes swapping notes with her, and Webber and Wendy telling jokes with her. When Wigfrid arrived,  her jaw dropped and immediately she placed her hunt in the icebox to join the group at the fire pits.

"Welcome back!" Willow's eyes lit up the minute she saw the redhead approach. "How did you do out there?" 

Wigfrid grinned and flexed her muscles. "Pretty well, I'd say. I gathered a bit more than usual. I think," She said, now directing her attention to the whole crowd of people, who fell silent at the sound of her voice. "That to celebrate the arrival of Willow Higgsbury, we should have a feast!" 

Everybody considered this for a moment. 

"Ah, I don't think that will be necessary..." Willow flushed with embarrassment.

"No, I think it's a good idea." Wickerbottom nodded. 

"So do I!" Webber agreed, nodding enthusiastically. 

The rest of the group agreed. Willow was embarrassed but also extremely flattered.

"You're right, Wigfrid. That sounds like a good idea." Wilson stood up and put an arm around Willow's shoulder. "Come on, don't be embarrassed. You're one of us now. Consider this like...a kind of initiation ceremony."

"O-okay..." Willow giggled. Wilson smiled with satisfaction and noticed Maxwell was staring. They made eye contact for a few seconds before the dapper man looked away.

'Okay, that guy DEFINITELY has something to hide.' Wilson bit his lip and reinforced the decision to talk with him later.

Everyone was busy preparing the food that night. The crock pots smelled strongly of meat and made Wilson's mouth water. Eggs were fried. Berries were cooked. Stews were made. Willow obviously felt embarrassed that everyone was doing so much for her, and Wilson reassured her a few times with a "Don't worry, I know you don't know how to handle all this, but trust me, it's not that bad." They even broke out the bottles of alcohol made from fermenting fruits they saved up from over the seasons. They didn't have much in terms of glasses besides small cups carved for marble, so they used those, too. 

The fires roared in all three of the pits and the feast began.

"To Willow!" Wigfrid raised her cup high above her head and the others did the same.

"To Willow!" They all repeated before digging in.

"You know," Willow swallowed a bit of her drink. "I'm not a big fan of alcohol, but this is good stuff."

Wilson nodded, not fully listening. "Yeah. Probably not as good as the stuff you'd get in London but it's what we've got."

Willow nodded in agreement. "Hey, are you okay? You look...distracted."

That he was, but he wasn't about to say so. "Mm, it's nothing." He shrugged. "Don't worry about me, sis. Tonight's your night."

Willow blushed. "Attention embarrasses me, though."

"You may want to get used to it, then. Already I can tell you're going to be very popular here." He chuckled. "Especially because of the fact that Wigfrid's got a crush on you." He mumbled.

"What was that?" Willow blushed a deeper red and backhanded Wilson on the shoulder.

"Ouch! Nothing, nothing!" He laughed. Willow's serious expression dropped and she laughed, too. 

The night continued, full of conversation and laughter between all the residents, old and new, even after they'd stopped eating. That's when Wilson decided he was going to make his move. He noticed Maxwell was sitting a bit of a distance away from everyone else, making it easier for him to approach the man, cup of liquor still in hand.

"Hey, can I talk to you for a moment?" He asked Maxwell quietly. Maxwell looked at him as though he was snapping out of a deep trail of thought and nodded. The scientist motioned for the man to get up and follow him and the two wandered off to the tree farm, close enough that they could see the light of the campfire in through the trees but far enough so that the others wouldn't be able to see them, at least not right away.

"You've looked distracted today." The scientist leaned back against a pine tree and took a quick sip of his drink.

"I'll admit, that's true." Maxwell leaned back against the one next to the scientist. "You're awfully observant."

Wilson smiled proudly. "Thank you. Now tell me, what's wrong? You've already helped get an emotional load off my shoulders so I might as well do the same for you." 

Maxwell was silent for a moment. "Well..." He sighed. "I suppose I could tell you."

Wilson bit his lip in anticipation. Maxwell's hair seemed a bit less neat than usual and there were dark circles around his eyes. He wondered what on earth it could be if it was enough to keep him up at night.

"Did you ever stop to wonder how you got back into your tent the night you fell asleep against the wall, or how your backpack was taken off when you fell asleep with it on?" 

Wilson's eyes widened. "How did you know about that?"

Maxwell glanced over and the to locked eyes. The look on his face said it all.

"No way. That was you?" Wilson's jaw dropped and Maxwell smiled. "But why?"

"I want to make amends with you." He admitted, the smile on his face dropping instantly. "I've treated you poorly since the first day I talked to you, through the radio. I've spent some time with you now and I honestly feel terrible for treating you the way I have, so I tried to make up for a little bit of it through helping you out. That's the rel reason I was out there two nights ago, not because we needed supplies but because I actually wanted to help you. I'd known something was wrong for a long, long time, but I didn't know what t do about it. I'm sorry," He said, biting his lip. "I hope you can forgive me." He looked back over at Wilson, waiting for a reaction.

Wilson was stunned. This was far from what he expected. 

"I don't know what to say..." He admitted after a while. "I mean...shit." His eyes widened. "...Is that why you asked about what I'd do to the person who brought my sister back?"

Maxwell looked away quickly and didn't respond. 

"Maxwell." Wilson stood back up. "How? How did you do it?" 

Maxwell sneaked a glance back at the scientist. "A magician never reveals his secrets." He said with a sly smile.

Hundreds of emotions flooded Wilson's mind at once. He wasn't sure what to feel about this. He leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Maxwell's frail body in a hug. 

"Thank you." He whispered. "Thank you so much. You honestly have no idea what it means to me." 

Maxwell hugged back. "You're welcome, pal." This time, he wasn't using 'pal' sarcastically or in a derogatory way. This time it was with genuine affection, and it made Wilson feel fuzzy inside. The two stayed like that for a while, Wilson's head against Maxwell's chest and Maxwell's chin rested in the fluffy nest of raven-black hair on Wilson's head. The two stayed like this for a while and it was a bit awkward when they pulled away. 

"Maxwell..." The scientist mumbled in a voice barely audible. If they weren't so close together, the man he was addressing wouldn't have heard it. 

"Yes?" The man's hands were still on Wilson's hips. 

"R-remember when I said that if I found out who brought my sister back, I'd want to kiss them?" Wilson's face was bright red.

Maxwell blushed, too. "I do remember that." 

"Well..." The scientist looked up at the magician shyly. "C-can I?"

Maxwell nodded slowly and was yanked down by Wilson, their lips brought together in a shy kiss that made them feel warm all over. Wilson's hands tugged at the collars of Maxwell's jacket, and the magician's hands were set firmly on the scientist's hips. The kiss lasted for a few seconds, but to both it felt like an infinity, and that wasn't such a bad thing to either party. 

"That was..." Wilson started but was unable to finish.

"Nice." Maxwell offered. The other smiled and nodded.

"Yeah." They noticed their hands were still on each other's bodies and removed them quickly. 

"Uh...so...we should probably be getting back now. The others might worry." Wilson picked up the marble cup he'd dropped into the soft grass below them out of nervousness and tried the rim with his shirt sleeve. 

"Yeah." Maxwell agreed and was about to start off for the fire pit when Wilson stopped him.

"Wait." He set the cup back down and placed his hands on Maxwell's broad shoulders. "Your collar is messed up." He said, adjusting it. "There. Hopefully no one will know what we were up to." He said with a chuckle. 

"Yeah."  The two blushed slightly. 

"Well, let's go, then." Wilson grabbed his cup and fought the urge to take the magician's hand as they started off for camp together.  Willow gave her brother a strange look as they came back into her line of focus and he sat down next to her. 

"Hey." She whispered. "What were you two doing? Your cup's empty." 

Wilson blushed. "Nothing."

'Translation: not your business so please don't inquire further.' Willow seemed to get it and didn't ask again, instead resuming conversation with Wigfrid. The two were sitting closer and from their conversation they seemed to be _really_ hitting it off. 

Hold on. Something was off here. Wilson did a quick head count of everyone there. 

'One, two three...'

"Where's Wickerbottom?" He asked Willow.

"Ah, she said she wasn't feeling too great and turned in early." Willow finished off what was in her cup. It became clear to Wilson that she must have been on her second or third cup of alcohol. 

"Oh, dear. I hope she's alright." Wilson remarked and her sister simply nodded, resuming conversation with her friend. 

There was a slight uneasy feeling in Wilson's gut, but he passed it off as anxiety and alcohol mixed. After all, he'd just kissed Maxwell of all people. That was definitely an unexpected turn of events, but the scientist didn't mind it at all. In fact, he reflected with a smile. It was nice. Admittedly, he enjoyed it, and he could tell from the way that Maxwell had acted that he enjoyed it, too.

However, there was another person who had seen the kiss, and she wasn't a big fan of the turn of events.

~~

Someone deep in a dark, dark chasm frowned as she reviewed the scene that played out behind the tree farm. 

"Well." Her American-accented voice broke the heavy silence of the dark room. "It appears our Wilson has fallen in love. That just won't do, will it?" She asked no one in particular. She brushed a strand of short black hair out of her face and tucked it into the small black hat she wore on her head, accented with a bright red feather. 

"And as for Maxwell...well. I suppose we'll deal with him later." Charlie smiled, a plan already forming in her mind. If everything went smoothly, Wilson would experience the worst nightmare of his life very, VERY soon. 


	6. Chapter 6- His Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things can go to hell in an instant. Wilson, along with everyone else, learns this the hard way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated the tags.

One by one, everyone bade each other goodnight and went to bed. Willow crashed a little earlier than the rest and was asleep by the time Wilson resigned to his tent. He slept fairly well for the first half of the night, but was awoken by the sounds of wincing and crying next to him. He rolled over and saw Willow, face contorted with fear, twitching and whimpering.

'Oh, god.' He sat up with alarm. She must have been having a nightmare. "Willow? Hey, Willow, wake up."

She stirred in her sleep a bit before her eyes shot open.

"Oh, Wilson, thank god!" She cried and threw her arms around Wilson's shoulders and hugged him tightly. "That was honestly the worst nightmare I've had in years..."

"Yeah, I heard you whimpering and woke up. That bad, huh?" He pat her on the shoulder and she shuddered.

"Yeah. I'd really rather not discuss it." She bit her lip, her raven hair falling loosely around her face.

"I see." Wilson kissed her forehead sympathetically. "Well, that's okay. Do you think you'd be able to go to sleep from here?"

"I guess so. Thanks, big brother." Willow hugged him again.

"No problem." Wilson hugged back, surprised at how helpless and scared this nightmare had rendered his tough-as-nails little sister. He laid back down and so did she, her head rested against Wilson's chest. It reminded Wilson of how they slept when they were still living with their parents. It felt nice to be curled up with her again. It made him feel strong, like he was protecting her, and he could tell Willow benefited from the occasional break from being the strongest, too.

Morning came and Wilson was the first out of his tent, or at least he thought he was. He stumbled over to the crock pots and was about to grab something to eat when he heard something. It almost sounded like a person crying.

'Weird. Who else is up right now?' He followed the sound, growing increasingly more worried every step he took. It almost sounded like...

"Wigfrid?" He stopped at a birchnut tree, where the source of the noise was. Wigfrid was knelt down by the base, bawling into her hands. "Hey, what's wrong?" He knelt down to her level and paled as he saw what was making her cry. Next to her was a body, and not just any body. It was Wickerbottom.

"I don't know what happened!" The Icelandic woman sobbed. "I cuh-came out here and I went to go hunting, and de-decided I'd take another way out, and then I found her like this..." She began to cry again, loud enough that it woke other residents of the camp.

"Oh dear..." Wendy wandered over, hand-in-hand with Webber. "What happened?"

"Back up, you two, right now." Wilson stood up, blocking their view. "Go wake up Aunt Willow and everyone else. Something very, very bad has happened."

The kids took turns waking up everyone else, and soon there was a whole crowd surrounding the weeping girl and the body of the old woman underneath the birchnut's red leaves.

"Good god." Woodie sucked in his breath. Wes audibly gasped.

"Yeah." Wilson shook his head. "Damn...that was a bit unexpected, wasn't it?"

"Didn't she say she wasn't feeling good last night, just before she went to her tent?" Wendy cocked her head. "Maybe she contracted an illness."

"Hold on. You say she went to her tent, and now her body's out here?" Wilson began to get a bad feeling in his gut. There was something seriously wrong with this picture.

Wendy nodded. "I watched her go to bed."

Everyone turned their eyes to Wilson as his mind's gears began turning. Granted, they did so rather groggily, but they turned nonetheless.

"That doesn't make any sense." He concluded slowly after a bit of thought. "There's only two ways I can think of that the body got out here. Either A, she came outside when no one was looking, or B, she was taken out here by someone else, whether it was by force or not." He looked the body up and down. It was so chilling, seeing Wickerbottom dead. He'd never seen a corpse before, at least not of a human being. The closest he'd gotten were drawn images of the human body systems from the science books he stole as a child, and those made him sick. This body had the same effect, but it was a deeper kind of sickness. He couldn't exactly explain why.

Wigfrid wiped her eyes. "What do you think happened?"

Wilson knelt down. "I don't know. Anyone have any idea? Any at all?"

Everyone uneasily exchanged glances and shook their heads. Even Maxwell was visibly alarmed and a bit sickened by this.

"Hey..." Willow knelt down some distance behind the tree, perfectly aligned with her brother. "Guys. Take a look at this. No, no, keep your distance, we don't want to mess these up. But seriously. Look."

Everyone, including Wilson, gathered around the woman. Wilson sucked in his breath.

"Tracks. Like someone was dragged on the ground." The siblings exchanged a look.

"So there was a person responsible for this." Willow concluded bitterly. "Tut, tut. Who would do such a thing?"

"Hold on, Willow." Wilson held up a hand moments before the group exploded into chatter. "First, we need to examine anything else that may explain the cause of death. Then we'll talk about motives."

"Good idea." Wigfrid nodded. " _Ég fæ þetta ekki_...how could someone pull a stunt like this without anyone noticing?"

"That's what this should find out. I've read some about forensics before. It's a subject that interests me greatly. I think a basic examination should help us determine the cause of death, but for this I'm going to need some space. Webber, Wendy, and anyone else who does not wish to stick around, please resume the day like normal, but do not mess up the drag marks we found. It's important evidence. If you find any more marks, let me know."

Webber and Wendy walked off, grumbling about how the adults always got to have all the fun, and everyone else filed out with them. All that was left was Wilson and Willow, the scientist siblings, and they weren't exactly sure how to begin.

"Okay..." Willow stood up and brushed dust off her skirt. "Where do we begin, brother?"

Wilson thought for a moment. "Eyes." He carefully removed Wickerbottom's glasses. "Hold these, and don't mess up the frames." He carefully opened Wickerbottom's eyes and inspected them. "Glazed over, dead. Irises appear to be of the same size, so there's no spinal damage. Let's check for signs of struggle next."

Willow nodded and watched eagerly as Wilson rolled up the old woman's sleeves. "No bruises or any other marks showing signs of foul play....Hm. Her hands are resting at her sides, palms up. There's no marks indicating a struggle. This is going to be difficult."

"Do you suggest we do an autopsy?" Willow suggested, sending her brother reeling.

"Absolutely not!" He cleared his throat. "Erm..there's too many risks involved. While it would be the easiest way to determine the exact cause, it could make one of us sick if she was carrying a disease. And it would be messy, and there's no reliable way of washing our clothes without potentially affecting our source of water."

"Oh, come on. You just don't want to have to see someone's insides." Willow teased. "You think I can't see how nauseous it makes you? Some scientist you are."

"Oh, shut up. You do realize we'd have to strip the body, too, if we were to preform one, too?" Wilson crossed his arms.

"Oh. OH." Willow shook her head with disgust. "Hell no. Count me out."

Wilson burst out laughing. "That's what I thought. Besides, Wickerbottom was old, anyway. The cause of death was likely just food poisoning or something. Hm...maybe someone gave her bad food on purpose."

"Then why would they drag her out here?" Willow leaned against the tree.

"Maybe so we'd find her corpse faster." God, the word "corpse" felt so heavy on his tongue it made him want to choke. Willow saw this and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Believe me, I feel bad. Maybe not near as bad as you do, but you can bet your behind I'm as willing to solve this as you. I don't get it. Everyone here seems so friendly. I could never imagine a murderer living among them."

"Neither could I." Wilson bit his lip in thought. The only person who he would even begin to accuse of committing murder would be Maxwell, but...no. There's no way it could have been him. He wanted to make amends, right? To be a better person?

Wilson felt chills run down his spine at the idea of him having kissed a murderer, and with such love and passion, too. Something deep in him said that there was no way it was Maxwell, but could he really be sure?

He didn't say anything about wanting to make amends with the others, after all.

But what would killing this old woman have to do with making amends with only Wilson? It didn't make much sense, at least not at first, until he remembered Wickerbottom had it out for Maxwell. He thought back to the night he heard the two fighting. Maybe he'd poisoned her and when she was out, dragged her body away. That still didn't sound right, though. Sure, they didn't get along, but what did that have to do with things?

"Wilson? Are you okay?" Willow snapped him out of his train of thought, which was growing increasingly darker.

"Mostly. Doing alright, for someone inspecting a corpse." The scientist respond and looked down at his hands. They were shaking violently. He swallowed.

"It's still early. If you want to take a break, we can." His sister prompted.

"No, no. I'm not stopping until we gather all the evidence we need." He insisted. "You can go, but I'm staying."

Willow paused. "Well, alright. Let me know what you find." She sighed and handed the glasses back to Wilson, who placed them back over Wickerbottom's nose. She then began walking away as Wilson looked over the body again. Something really, really wasn't right about this, and an itch grew inside his brain, urging him to figure out what it is. He looked the corpse over up and down again. No bruises on the ankles or arms. No signs of a person manipulating the body in any way, shape or form. If he knew any better, he'd have said she just died here and left it at that. With the evidence they had already, though, there was just no way that could be the case. 

_Wait._

That's when he saw it. Wickerbottom's shirt collar had been tampered with. It looked a little too tight and a little too neat, even for her. Cautiously, Wilson reached out and unbuttoned the top button. He loosened the collar and peered underneath.

"W-Willow!" He called, shock infiltrating his voice and causing it to crack. "Get over here! You're gonna want to see this!"

"What's wrong?" Willow had just sat down to eat with the others and came running back, bringing everyone else behind her in a trail of people.

Wilson's hands trembled as he raised Wickerbottom's chin to show off the horrifying discovery he'd made.

"Oh my god." Willow breathed, eyes widening.

Wilson nodded. "Someone slit her throat."

Everyone was dead silent for a few seconds, but they felt like forever.

"Who could have done such a thing?" Tears began to trickle in Wigfrid's green eyes again.

"I'm not sure. Who could have had the motive?"

Immediately the crowd exploded into a heated debate.

"It wasn't us!" Webber and Wendy insisted.

"You two were ruled out from the start! You're too young to commit a crime as smoothly as this!" Wilson said. "Okay, who else?"

"Wasn't me." Wolfgang said. "I like her. Could never do such a thing."

Wilson bit his lip. He was right. While Wolfgang was strong physically, he wasn't mentally, and his fear of the dark had a tendency to overpower him easily. Wickerbottom would occasionally read from him to calm his anxieties, and it would work very well. Plus, Wolfgang's arms would have left marks on the old woman's frail arms.

"That eliminates you." He nodded. Wolfgang stepped back from the group and joined the sulking Webber and Wendy duo.

"I say it was Maxwell!" Wigfrid roared with a sudden anger that hadn't been present moments before. 

"What?! Me!?" Maxwell held up both hands. " _Excuse you_! I was afraid of her, as much as I'd hate to admit it. I wouldn't pull a stunt like that! You, on the other hand, have more experience fighting and killing than I. I say it was _you_!"

"Oh, REALLY?!" Wigfrid snapped. She was considerably shorter than Maxwell was, but she made up for it with a temper as fiery as her red curls of hair tied off in twin tails. "You're really going to stoop so low as to accuse ME of pulling a stunt like that? Fuck OFF, _William Carter_. Unlike you, I actually _feel things_ for people, and Wickerbottom was one of the people I liked! If anything, I'd kill YOU if I had the chance, you lying and manipulative son of a--"

"Wigfrid!" Woodie chastised, covering Webber's antennae-like ears. Wes has his hands over Wendy's. "The children!"

"You've let them see a body, and I'm sure all of you have said worse around them, so piss off!" Her accent was getting progressively stronger as her anger burned inside her. This was getting ugly, Wilson thought, and if they didn't find a way to stop this soon, there may be soon another body to clean up.

"Hey, HEY!" Willow shouted, loud enough to make everyone shut their mouths instantly. "I say we settle this like the adults we are and hold a an interrogation session. Then we'll find out what happened, and if we come to a conclusion that a murderer really is among us, I'll decide what we do with them!"

"Why you?" Woodie asked in his gruff accent. "You and Wigfrid seem pretty close, right? Wouldn't it be biased to make you the judge of things?"

Willow's face became deadly serious. "I'll gladly set aside all my ties with these two for this. Murder is inexcusable, after all." She crossed her arms. "Besides, I don't know most of you that well. I can't have that much bias since I've only been here for a few days."

"How are we even going to carry this trial out, if we do one at all?" Woodie continued. "No one here knows how those things run, right?"

" _Au contraire._ " Willow smiled. "My brother was forced to study law, but everything that he was taught went in one ear and out the other. Sometimes, though, I'd read from his books, and all I've read has stuck. I know more about this process than anyone else here, so I should be the one to do it."

This side to Willow was one Wilson wasn't familiar with. She had been reading his study materials? Made sense, he supposed, now that he thought about it. Every time he tried to throw something out, like a law textbook, it would come back. He always thought it was his parents, silently scolding him for trying to get this burden off his back.

"Now, how are we going to do this...?" Willow began to pace. "Ah! I've got it! Wilson, grab some boards. You two, the defendants," She pointed at Wigfrid and Maxwell. "Come with me." She led them over to the fire pits. Wilson followed and rummaged through some chests, bringing his sister a sizable stack of boards.

"Will these do?" He asked, holding them out.

"They will. Thank you." She took the boards and arranged them into something like a stage and stood upon them. From here, she and Maxwell were finally at eye level.

"Nice." She grinned and motioned everyone else over.

"This is how it's gonna go down." She explained. "Webber, Wendy, go harvest the vegetable garden and feed the birds. If this is still going on when you're done, find something else to do, but do not get involved with this. Please. You're too young."

The two groaned but did as they were told. Willow smiled with satisfaction.

"For the rest of you." She turned to the remainder of the group. "I'll question these two at the same time since we don't have any legal prosecutors in the room. You two can be each others' prosecutors, then, I guess..." She trailed off and turned to Wilson. "Anything else we need?"

"Technically, we'd need lawyers, but I think it would be easier to do this without them." He shrugged.

"Good idea." She turned back to the group of people before her. "With that, have the defendants step forward, and I'll take it from here."

Maxwell and Wigfrid stepped forward, both looking equally nervous. The remainder of the group stood behind them, in awe by how suave and in control Willow was.

"Are you sure you're related to her?" Woodie leaned over and asked.

"Honestly? At this point, I'm not sure." Wilson chuckled quietly.

Willow cleared her throat. Everyone fell silent. All eyes were on her.

"We will now begin the interrogation of the two suspected to be murderers, responsible for the death of Wickerbottom." Wilson noticed her hands were shaking a little and gave his sister a reassuring smile. She smiled back for a moment before her face became serious. "From what we know, the murder occurred sometime during the night. Foul play--murder--is suspected. Our two suspects are Wigfrid and Maxwell, full name William Carter." She peered down at the defendants standing before her. "Is this information correct?"

Maxwell and Wigfrid nodded.

"Alright then. Defendant one, Wigfrid. Roughly twenty-four years of age and accusing defendant two for murder. What basis to you have to accuse him of this crime?" The seriousness in her voice got the message out that she meant business.

Wigfrid swallowed nervously. "I have reason to believe he's responsible and I am not because I have a reasonable alibi. He does not." She smiled smugly. "If you all recall, Maxwell was off at the tree farm with Wilson when Wickerbottom reported she wasn't feeling well. Maybe it was so he'd be as far away from her as possible when the spoiled berries he'd slipped her had started kicking in."

The crowd behind them gasped. A pang of dread slapped Wilson across the face. She had a good point. What if the kiss had just been a distraction?

Willow nodded in thought. "I see. How do you plead?"

Wigfrid paused. "Not guilty."

"Alright." Willow turned to Maxwell. "Defendant number two. State your case."

Maxwell took a deep breath. "I believe it was Wigfrid responsible for the murder because as we all know, we both have a rivalry, and seeing an opportunity to make me look bad, she killed her and is trying to frame me."

"That's a very serious accusation." Willow said gravely. Wilson bit his lip. She was right. If she found out he was lying, things were going to go to shit fairly quickly. Knowing her, she'd probably give the death sentence and carry it out herself. "Are you sure?"

Maxwell nodded. "I am."

"How do you plead?"

"Not guilty."

"Do we have any evidence that either of the accused are the murderer?" Willow looked around at the crowd of people.

Everyone was silent.

"Actually, I think I do." Wigfrid piped up. Wilson sucked in his breath. She sounded so sure of herself. "Wilson. You're the one who inspected the body, right?"

"Willow and I both did, but I did it longer." Wilson nodded. "So yes."

Wigfrid smiled and turned back to Willow. "I heard you two saying something about how there was evidence of the body being dragged, but no marks indicating someone put their hands on her. The only way that this would be possible is if something dragged her that was capable of touching things without leaving a mark. In other words, something that isn't human, since a human hand would have left marks on the body." She paused for emphasis. "What's one thing that we've seen to exhibit this in the past?" She grinned, revealing the gap between her front teeth. "Shadow creatures, of course."

Wilson's heart stopped. At least, to him, that's what it felt like. He had a pretty good idea of where this was going. Why hadn't he thought of it before?

"Maxwell," Wigfrid sneaked a glance at the man next to her. "That _Codex Umbra_ of yours can summon shadow clones of yourself, can't it? Who's to say he didn't use one of those to get the job done?"

Everyone gasped. Maxwell became visibly flustered.

"Wha-no! I couldn't have! There's no--"

"They carry weapons with them, don't they?" Wigfrid raised an eyebrow. "And isn't one of them...a _sword_?"

Oh no. Wilson felt himself pale. What she was saying actually made a lot of sense. It would explain lack of bloody clothing, any murder weapons being found, why there were no witnesses.

If it was a shadow that killed her, it would have blended into the night.

Still, a part of him refused to believe it. He refused to believe he had kissed a murderer. Gut instinct told him Wigfrid was lying straight to his sister's face, and while he had no evidence that she was responsible, there would be no evidence that _he_ was responsible, either, if what he was about to do had the desired effects. This trial had turned from a double interrogation into a real trial, and now Wigfrid appeared to be the persecutor. Wilson wasn't about to let her win the case, though. Not on his life.

Willow crossed her arms. "Interesting story. Let's see if it holds water." She turned to the convicted man and glared at him with a face cold enough to turn even Medusa herself to stone.

"Maxwell." Her voice was flat and deadly serious. "After what defendant one has to say, tell me, how do you plead?"

Maxwell was silent. Wilson took a deep breath.

"I said, how do you plead?" Willow asked again, this time a bit more impatiently.

" _Not guilty!_ "


	7. Chapter 7- His Trial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilson's a mess right now, both physically and emotionally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> May take another long break because Chapter 8 is coming along really rocky rn and I need more time to make it look adequate and semi-reasonable. Sorry.

All eyes were on Wilson as he stepped up to where the defendants stood before his little sister.

"He pleads not guilty." Wilson said again, this time more seriously.

"What happened to no lawyers, Wilson?" Willow raised an eyebrow.

"Please, just hear me out!" He begged. No way had he kissed a murderer last night. No way. "I say he couldn't have done it because the blades of the weapons carried by his clones simply could not have made the same marks the weapon used on Wickerbottom made!"

"Show me your proof." Willow challenged. In this moment, she was less like a sister and more like a real judge. The difference was enough to make Wilson visibly cringe.

"Help me carry the body over and I'll show it to you." Wilson retorted, mimicking his sister by crossing his arms. Willow considered this for a moment and nodded. The two wandered over to where Wickerbottom's corpse lay.

"Have you gone mad?!" Willow whispered as the two hoisted up the old librarian. "You're defending this man, after all that's happened?"

"I went mad a long time ago, dear sister." Wilson smiled weakly. "Just listen to me, okay? It'll all make sense in a moment. Besides, we have no proof Wigfrid's actually telling the truth." At least, for now they didn't. Bruises had already begun to form on the body, and the sight nearly made Wilson vomit on the spot. Despite this, however, the two managed to lift and carry the body over to the makeshift podium on which Willow had stood. They set it down and Wilson unbuttoned the shirt collar again, revealing the gaping neck wound.

"As you can see," Wilson pointed out the sides of the wound. "This cut was made rather sloppily, and was clearly made with a serrated blade. Maxwell's movements with a sword are too precise, and the blade of said sword are perfectly straight and deadly sharp. While it's an interesting accusation to make, Wigfrid, evidence shows there's no way his sword could have made this cut."

Wigfrid sneered at him. "Oh really. And how can you be so sure? Maybe he messed up his cut on purpose to make it seem-"

"No." Wilson cut her off. "Not possible. The shape of the blade helps determine how the skin is cut, in that I mean it shapes the wound itself. If the cut was smooth, the wound would be neater than this. This was a sloppy job, almost like the person holding the weapon had difficulty handling it." He smiled. "It wouldn't be easy to slice a person's throat with the serrated blade of a spear, would it, Wigfrid?"

The crowd gasped.

"What?! Like I said, I LOVED Wickerbottom! I could never do it!"

"Maybe not." Wilson nodded. "But let me show you why it couldn't have been Maxwell, either." He turned to the taller man next to him. "Pull out the _Codex Umbra_."

Maxwell looked surprised. "Excuse me?"

"Did I stutter?" Wilson cocked his head. "Do it." ' _It may be your only chance of being proven innocent.'_

Carefully, Maxwell retrieved the _Codex Umbra_ from his inventory.

"Good. Now summon a shadow clone." Wilson commanded, his stare unbreaking and equally as serious as the one his sister wore.

Maxwell mumbled a spell in what sounded like Latin and a shadow clone appeared next to him, sword in hand.

Wilson nodded and rolled up his shirt sleeve.

"What are you doing?" The magician asked uneasily. No one else spoke, but the tone in the man's voice was present in emotion form in the eyes of everyone around him. The scientist held his arm out without a second thought.

"Have him cut my arm." He tilted his head back slightly.

"Wilson, I-"

"DO IT!" Wilson roared in a tone he did not expect to come from himself. Maxwell, taken aback, glanced over at his shadow clone, pointing at Wilson's arm. Wilson shut his eyes as the clone swiftly cut a medium-sized gash in Wilson's arm.

 ** _Holy shit_**. The scientist saw white, the pain was so great. Carefully and with shaking hands he dried the blood seeping out of the cut off with his sleeve. He managed a weak grin and held it up next to the cut in Wickerbottom's neck.

"Observe." He managed to croak out. "The wounds are not a match."

Everyone gasped again, and this time Wilson couldn't tell if it was because he was bleeding profusely or if it was because Wigfrid had been proven wrong.

"Wilson, you idiot!" Willow hissed. "Your arm!"

"I don't care about my arm." Wilson shot back. "I care that the wrong person is about to get framed for a crime he didn't commit."

"What other proof do you have that I did it?" Wigfrid rolled her eyes. "Besides a bloody arm, of course, which doesn't prove _shit_."

"Not so fast." Wilson grinned again. "Hand me your spear."

" _Wilson Percival Higgsbury, I swear to god, don't do it_." Willow mumbled, loud enough for her brother to hear her.

"Well," Wilson replied as he took the spear from Wigfrid. "The thing about that is, I'm going to do it." Quickly he sliced another gap in his arm, right next to the one the shadow clone had made, and for a split second he saw that blinding white again.

"Ah..." He bit his lip. "Fuck, that hurt." He dried the blood off the spear head best he could and handed it back. He looked down at the wound, and his eyes widened.

"Wait a minute..." Willow grabbed his arm and looked from the new cut to the one in the corpse's throat.

"Oh no." Wilson's heart sank.

The wounds weren't a match here, either.

The group of people behind them exploded into chatter.

"Maybe that wasn't the best way of determining what made that." Woodie offered.

"Possibly not." Wilson winced. "Wes? Can you bring over some healing salve and bandages, please? God, this hurts..."

"You shouldn't have done that, then, idiot!" Willow grabbed her brother's other arm and slapped him across the face with his own hand. Wilson was startled for a moment and then smiled.

"Guess I sorta deserved that, didn't I?" He laughed.

"Yeah. Yeah ya did. Hurting yourself like that..." Willow mumbled as Wes brought the medical supplies over and the woman began to treat her brother's wounds.

"I just...uh..." He didn't want to admit the real reason for him sticking up for Maxwell. Not here. Not now. Maybe not even ever, if he could help it. "I realized that thing about the blades at the last minute. Sorry. I should have considered such a thing sooner."

"Yeah, well, too late for that." Willow huffed and finished bandaging his arm. "There. Cut yourself again and I'll personally burn one of those curls of your hair. You know, the ones that form the W shape."

"Alright, alright. Calm down." He looked over at Wigfrid and Maxwell, who stood there awkwardly. "What are we gonna do about..."

"Oh, yeah." Willow sighed. "Uh, hey, guys..." She tried to get the attention of the three standing behind the accused. They stopped talking and piped to attention. "I'm afraid we're going to have to suspend the interrogation for now. We just don't have any tangible evidence pointing to either of them being the criminal."

"Then who could have done it?" Wigfrid demanded.

"Actually," Woodie stepped forward. "I know I should have said something about this sooner, but after hearing what these two had to say, what I saw or think I saw was confirmed."

"Saw or think you saw?" Willow reiterated, eyebrows raising  in surprise. She and her brother exchanged uneasy glances.

"Go on." Wilson prompted.

"Well...what Wigfrid said about the shadows. I think I saw one over there, by the tree, just before I went to bed. Maxwell and Wilson were still...doing god knows what by the tree farm, and Wigfrid and Willow were still chatting with the young'ns. I saw a woman standing there, but I thought it was a hallucination. It wasn't Wickerbottom, I'll tell you that." He paused. "She was a bit taller. Short hair. She wore an all black dress, I think, but it may have just been the darkness. This was shortly before I heard Wickerbottom announce she felt ill, too."

Wilson's heart jumped up into his throat. "Did..." He drew in a shaky breath. "Did she wear a hat, too?"

"Couldn't tell. She was too far back for me to see." Woodie shook his head.

The scientist began to tremble and his stomach felt like it was collapsing on itself. _A woman in a black dress with short hair_. The image that immediately came to mind was that of the woman he'd met in the nightmare he had two nights ago. He reached over and squeezed Willow's hand, eyes fixed on the ground.

"Wilson, what's wrong? You're shaking like a freezing animal and you've gone at least three shades paler!" His sister cupped his chin sternly, forcing him to look back up at her. He could see in her eyes that she felt the same uneasiness, though. He wondered why.

"Dismiss the case for now." He whispered hoarsely. "We need to talk later about this."

Willow nodded. "Woodie, thanks for this information. The case will be suspended for now. Wilson and I need time to talk this over, and I'm sure you all need to recover from the initial shock of this morning's events. In the meantime, we need to figure out what to do with this body." She let go of Wilson's hand and glanced down at the corpse of the old librarian, once named Wickerbottom, her face becoming serious again.

~~

They buried her by the flower garden, not too far from the bee boxes. Webber and Wendy locked hands and didn't say a word the whole time. The Higgsbury siblings helped dig the hole, and then lowered the corpse inside. Everyone took turns placing a flower onto the body before burying it. No one said anything. They were all too weighted down with grief.

The day moved on painstakingly slow. No one really spoke to one another. Maxwell and Wigfrid glowered at each other from across the fire pits. Wendy kept mumbling something into Abigail's flower. Wes and Woodie sat passing notes by the stone wall. From the looks on their faces, they weren't writing about anything happy.

"This is so depressing." Willow mumbled. She sat with her brother at the fire pit nearest the tents, where they were last night. She had tied her hair back into pigtails and twirled one in between her fingers. "No one's eating. No one's talking. No one's so much as moving." She sighed. "I wish I had known her better so I didn't feel so morbid for not mourning too."

Wilson sighed. "I've known her since she came here, but for some reason I don't think I'm as sad as they are. The only thing that's really, really shaken me here is the thought of you being...well. You know."

Willow nodded. "I wonder if this would have still happened if I came."

"Maybe. Maybe not." Wilson shrugged. "There's just no way of telling." He reached over and grabbed Willow's hand, something he didn't even realize he did until she squeezed his hand. He figured it was just a reflex move, since being with Willow had a strange calming effect on him most of the time. It had always been this way. When he was upset, or she was upset, they'd hug it out or hold hands to relieve tension. Wilson wondered if physical contact was scientifically a good way to relieve tension, because it certainly felt like it.

Dusk fell quicker than expected. Everyone promptly went to their tents when it happened.

"Looks like everyone's emotionally exhausted." Willow observed the mass exodus of people to their tents carefully. "Wait, where's Maxwell?"

Wilson spied the man at the tree farm, leaning against a pine. Funnily enough, it was the same one Wilson had leaned against the night before, or at least it looked like the same tree.

"Over there." He said, flatly as he could muster.

"Perfect. Do we have any more alcohol?" Willow asked. Wilson raised an eyebrow.

"I think so, why?"

"Pour me a glass, will you? I wanna talk over this murder case a little more with you." Willow crossed one leg over the other and rested her chin on her hand as she began to think. Wilson got up and wandered over to the icebox, grabbing a glass of the wine-like liquor and poured a glass for himself and his sister, adding ice chunks as an extra touch.

"Here you go." He sat across from her at the fire pit and handed her the marble cup. She took a small sip of hers.

"Amazing. Tastes like I'm swallowing fire. Thank you." She smiled. "Now, about this damned murder. Who do you think did it?"

"No idea." Her brother admitted, eyes fixed on the roaring flames between them. "Evidence shows both sides are innocent. Then what Woodie said..." He sighed. "The most disturbing thing about it is, his story actually holds water. If another person was involved, it would explain why we don't have any evidence pointing to any of the people currently living here. But who could it be? We just have no way of knowing." He groaned.

Willow nodded thoughtfully. "Quick question...and I know this is completely unrelated, but I've been itching to know. What were you and Maxwell doing at that tree farm? It's a bit suspicious, you know. I wonder why Wigfrid didn't pull you into that mess, accusing you of being his accomplice."

Wilson tensed up. "You really want to know?"

The look Willow gave him next was enough to tell him that she meant business. "Tell me. I've never kept a secret from you in my life, other than the one about reading your study materials, but you never asked so I never told." She shrugged.

"I at least wouldn't have tried to throw them out if you had told me." He chuckled. "Fine...if you really want to know, he looked like something was bugging him all day, and since he helped get an emotional load off my back a few nights ago, I figured I'd do the same for him." He shrugged, hoping she'd leave it at that.

"Damn. What was it that you two were out there for so long?" She raised an eyebrow at him. "Were you two..."

"No!" Wilson turned about six shades of red in the face. "I'll admit, we did...kiss...but--"

"Ha! I knew there was something between you two!" Willow grinned and took another swig of liquid. "So you stuck up for him because you didn't want to believe you kissed a murderer. Is that it?"

Wilson nodded sheepishly. "The thing I told you about how I realized last-minute the thing about weapons _is_ true, though."

Willow nodded. "I see." She stared off into space for a moment. "If it makes you feel any better, I had planned to ask Wigfrid to date me, but..." She shook her head. "Her enjoyment from making Maxwell look bad in the interrogation session today is making me have second thoughts. Maybe she did do it."

"I can't stop thinking about what Woodie said about that woman in the black dress." Wilson admitted. "I mean, I think I've seen something like that before, but..."

"When?!" Willow demanded, leaning forward.

"Well, in a dream." Wilson admitted sheepishly. "I didn't say anything since...well, a dream's not good evidence for much of anything, other than your brain was busy that night."

The two laughed uneasily.

"Between you and me." Willow replied, her voice low. "I think I may have seen the same woman in last night's nightmare. Short, black hair, with a hat and dress of the same color. Black gloves. Red feather in her hat. God...what's wrong?"

Wilson had gone pale again. The description Willow gave matched up perfectly with the woman he'd seen in his own nightmare. The scene where she tried to get him to shoot her replayed in his mind, her accent adding a strange and eerie touch to the calm, clearness of her commands.

'Ten, nine, eight...' He could still hear it even now.

"I'd rather not talk about it." He blurted. "The dream...god, Willow, it was horrible. I couldn't move and she tried to..." He paused an drew in a shaky breath. "Tried to get me to shoot you. But I wouldn't do it, so she killed me instead. Then I woke up..." He shivered. "God, I mean it when I say I don't have the words to describe how glad I was to see you next to me when I woke up."

Willow had grown paler as well. "That's awful. Sounds a lot like the dream I had, only..." She bit her lip. "I watched her try to coerce you into shooting me instead."

The two were deadly silent for what felt like forever.

"That's so creepy." Wilson shuddered after a while.

"I woke up just when she pulled the trigger." Willow shivered. "It felt so real. I wanted to cry." She smiled weakly from across the campfire at her brother. "Thank you for not doing it."

Wilson nodded. "I could never hurt you, Willow. You're my sister. I love you too much for that."

Again, the awkward silence settled over them in a blanket so thick Wilson swore he could cut it with a knife.

"Anyway, about that murder." The scientist cleared his throat. "Nothing about this is making sense. If there really was a third party involved, number one, how would we know for sure? Number two, how would we find out who they are?"

Willow sighed. "God, you know, I genuinely wish I knew." She shook her head. "Not even Scotland Yard would be able to solve this one. Not like they'd have the chance to, though." She chuckled. "Hopefully the morning will bring new answers."

"You're going to bed?" Wilson asked as his sister stood up.

"I am. Here's my cup. Don't stay up too late, please. You need rest as well." She cautioned and handed Wilson her marble cup, still half full of liquid.

"I'll come to bed soon." He reassured her. "I just need more time to think. This is the most interesting topic I've been tasked to deal with in a while."

Willow nodded. "Have fun, I guess." She flipped out her lighter and used it to guide herself back to the tent. Wilson poured the remainder of his sister's drink into his own cup and set the empty one in the soft grass below the log on which he sat. He kept his eyes fixed on the flames as he began to review what had been gathered as evidence that day, and wrote out a list in his head.

-Both Maxwell's sword and Wigfrid's spear were shown to have been unable to cause the wound

-No bloody clothing or weapons were found

-Wickerbottom stated she wasn't feeling well on the night she was murdered, showing that she may have been poisoned with spoiled food

-The body was dragged to a tree, presumably so that we would find it more quickly

-Her throat was slit and then covered by her shirt collar

-Died with her palms facing up, showing relaxation in death

-Eyes were closed. Possibly killed in her sleep.

His head ached as he tried to piece the clues together. Nothing was making sense, third party theory or not. He sighed and downed about half the cup of liquor, knowing it wasn't a good idea but did it anyway, sort of like what he did with his arm.

He couldn't help but wonder how Maxwell had felt about that. The tone in his voice and the uneasiness in his actions hinted at genuine concern, but Wilson was not about to jump to conclusions.

"You and Willow are quite close, aren't you?" Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. Well, Wilson hadn't exactly spoke of him in that moment, but still.

"Evening, Maxwell." Wilson greeted the magician flatly, not breaking his one-sided stare at the conflagration before him. "That we are. We're practically the same person, honestly. Anyhow, what're you here for?"

"Can I sit down?"

Wilson looked up at him and nodded, moving over a little. The magician sat on the log next to him, a bit awkwardly.

"I wanted to thank you for what you did for me today." He said to the scientist. "Without you, I think your sister would have my head on a stick right now."

Wilson nodded. "To be honest with you, you're right. Wigfrid had some good points out there. Very convincing, for the most part. The way she delivered the evidence sort of gave away the fact that she couldn't have been telling the truth, though, at least not to me." He chuckled sadly. "Damn. The woman you brought here was a hair away from taking your life away. I don't even think she knows you're why she's here."

"Probably not. I'm genuinely flattered that you did that, though." Maxwell showed a hint of a smile on his face.

"I couldn't stand the idea of you being accused, honestly." Wilson sighed. "I just...god. It didn't feel right." He looked from the fire to the magician. "That story Woodie gave about the woman...what are your thoughts?"

The magician was silent for a moment. "Chilling, to be as blunt as possible. It reminded me of someone I used to know..."

Wilson raised an eyebrow. "Who?"

Maxwell sighed. "It's a long story."

"I have time."

"I'd rather not discuss it, not in detail, anyway." The magician shuddered. "She and I...well. I used to be an actual magician, you know. I came to America from England to find somewhere I could start preforming. I met her there. Charlie was her name. She became my assistant. A freak accident is what brought us here. I'd...really not say much else, other than the Codex Umbra was involved."

Questions burned in Wilson's mind, but he decided not to ask them. "So this 'Charlie' woman...what does she look like?"

"Roughly the same as what Woodie described. Short, black hair. Shorter than me but taller than you, though to be honest it's not hard for anyone to be taller than you or Willow." He teased with a smirk.

"Oh, shut up."

"Sorry, sorry." The taller man couldn't help but laugh anyways. Wilson had to admit, while the joke was making fun of him, his laugh was nice. His smile dropped quickly, though. "Her dress is different. It wasn't all black last I saw it, but I wouldn't be surprised if it changed somehow. She didn't wear a hat, either. Just a rose in her hair."

"What side?"

"Pardon?"

"What side of her head did she wear it on?" Wilson reiterated.

"Ah...right, I think."

Wilson sucked in his breath. "Strange..."

Maxwell nodded. "Don't press any further. Please. It's not good to talk about someone who's listening, especially when that someone is someone like Charlie. Maybe we can re-visit this topic later, but tonight...."

"...someone who's listening?" Wilson repeated. "Excuse me? How would she be--?"

"Remember. _Both_ of us were brought here. _Together_. Who do you think is on the shadow throne now? It has to be _somebody_." Maxwell crossed one leg over the other and waited for the puzzle pieces to click in the other's head.

Wilson's eyes widened in realization. "Oh. _Oh_." He swallowed nervously. "Makes sense, but I don't understand how she could have..."

Maxwell shook his head. "You know, me neither. It was an idea that just made sense, so it's the explanation I go with for why the shadows haven't personally taken one of us to sit on that damn throne. It also explains how you got off of it."

Wilson nodded thoughtfully. He had known that freeing Maxwell would result in him ending up on the shadow throne, and he remembered sitting there in that hallway, his sanity draining rapidly, but he can't seem to remember how he'd gotten off of it.

It was almost like his memory of it had been wiped clean of the event somehow.

"Wilson." Maxwell placed a hand on the other's shoulder. "You're shaking."

The scientist looked down at his hands and saw that Maxwell was right. "Oh. Yeah..." He swallowed nervously. "I think I may have dreamed about her, or at least a woman like her. I knew I was dreaming when it happened, but I couldn't control anything in the dream. And you know, you'd think that would be possible since it's _your_ dream. _You_ can control it, if you know how. And I do. But no. I couldn't control shit except where I looked and what I said." A lump formed in his throat. "She made me...tried to make me...shoot my sister..." Tears prickled in his eyes. "And when I wouldn't do it, she shot me instead."

Maxwell drew in a sharp breath. "Oh, good god. That doesn't sound like Charlie at all." He wrapped an arm around Wilson's shoulder and the scientist leaned in close to Maxwell's chest, shaking and trying not to cry.

"This is so scary." Wilson admitted in a voice just barely louder than a whisper. "Who's gonna be next, and when? Who's _really_ doing this and why? I don't understand anything right now and it's pissing me off!" The trembling scientist wrapped his arms around Maxwell's waist and began to sob into his chest. "I hate this! Just when things were starting to make a turn for the better!" He whimpered and Maxwell toyed with locks of the scientist's thick black hair to try and calm him. They sat like that for a while before Wilson finally calmed down.

"Better?" Maxwell asked softly, a curly lock of hair still woven between his fingers.

"A bit, yes." Wilson nodded into Maxwell's coat. "Sorry, I just--"

"Don't apologize." Maxwell quickly cut him off. "You're nervous and extremely frustrated. I want to help you, remember? Don't tear yourself down for getting weight off your shoulders."

The smooth calmness in the magician's voice not only eased the scientist, but charmed him as well. "T-thank you." Wilson sat up and wiped his eyes. "Your jacket..."

"Don't worry about it." Maxwell let go of the curl of hair he was holding. The two sat in silence for a moment before Wilson managed to work up the courage to turn to the man next to him, his face flushed red, though he couldn't help but wonder if the man's kindness was sincere.

"Maxwell, tell me something." He tried to make eye contact to emphasize his seriousness, but doing that was never his strong suit, so it was hard. It was a question subconsciously turning in his brain for almost an entire day now, and he thought he'd go insane if it stayed in his head any longer. Besides, he badly needed some form of distraction from this crippling feeling of dread that was practically choking him to death right now.

"Yes?"

"After we kissed last night, I, uh, wanted to know. What are we? I mean...uh...what's between us?" He looked away slightly, too embarrassed to try holding eye contact anymore.

"I'd say about five inches of space." The magician joked. Wilson looked back up at him slyly.

"Why don't we fix that?" He asked, snaking his hand up to the other man's tie and wrapping his fingers around it. Maxwell smiled, seeming to get the hint, and the two leaned in oh-so-slowly until their lips met, Wilson gently tugging on his tie to bring them closer. Maxwell's hands found their way to Wilson's slim hips, where he carefully placed them. Wilson's other hand cupped the magician's face, thumb running over his jaw slowly. The two kissed for a few seconds, pulled away for a bit, and dove right back in. An uncounted amount of kisses later, Wilson was somehow sitting on Maxwell's thigh, straddling him, both hands now against the man's chest. Maxwell's hands didn't move. He didn't want to make the other uncomfortable, not after how well this had already gone.

"You know..." Maxwell pulled away and mumbled into the smaller man's neck. "If you wanted to, we could...I don't know, date."

The idea made Wilson tense up. "You mean that?"

Maxwell nodded.

"Uh..." Wilson sighed shakily. "Listen, I'd love to, but...I really don't understand feelings, okay, so I'm having a lot of difficulty figuring this one out. But maybe, once I'm more sure of myself, we could try." He smiled sheepishly. Maxwell nodded in understanding.

"I see."

"Yeah...I've never felt like this for someone before." He admitted. "I don't know if I like women, if I'm a homosexual, or what...I've got no experience here. Why would you want me, anyway?"

"To be honest, I'm not sure." The other man sat up, removing his hands from Wilson's waist. "We're so different, honestly. You're a scientist. You prefer the more logical answers to a  problem. To you, there's always a reason for something to happen, and you won't rest until you get your answer. You're stubborn and reckless and you always look for patterns in any given situation. They help you cope. Me, on the other hand, I prefer the abstract nature of magic. I don't see why there has to be logic to everything. Some things just...happen. That's the way I like to see it, anyway. But maybe my reason for liking you is just that. The way your eyes light up when you find the solution to a problem, the way reciting patterns of numbers calms you, and your enthusiasm towards your work are, I guess, all factors for why I like you, I guess." He chuckled. "We almost balance each other out. If you saw yourself the way I did, you'd know right away why I feel the way I do." The magician blushed darkly. "Oh, god, I'm ranting. I'm sorry."

"No, it's okay." Wilson choked out, stunned. No one had ever said something to him like this before.

"Thank you." Was all he could manage before hugging the other man tightly, who promptly hugged back. Wilson screwed his eyes shut, trying desperately not to cry from the gratitude and happiness welling up inside him.

"You're welcome." Maxwell whispered, tweaking a curl of the other's thick black hair. They sat like that, hearts beating in sync, breathing steadily together, basking in the wonderfully pure feeling of a new relationship blossoming between them. A sort of fuzziness bubbled in Wilson's chest, making him feel warm. Comfortable. Finally loved by someone other than his precious little sister. If he had the choice, he'd stay like this forever, focused on nothing but the man whose arms were wrapped around him and the soft crackle of the fire behind them.

He was so consumed in these newfound feelings, in fact, didn't notice how dark it had gotten, or that three shadow hands had begun creeping out of the dark toward the rapidly fading fire that they had almost no backup fuel on hand for.


	8. Chapter 8- His Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You must be either Level 15 or one of the Higgsbury siblings to unlock Maxwell's tragic backstory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the one-week wait. It won't happen again.

"Wilson, get up!"

The man in question's eyes fluttered open. "Huh? What's wrong?"

" _ That's _ what's wrong!" Maxwell pointed to the hands that were rapidly coming in for them. " _ Move _ !"

"Shit!" Wilson stood up when his eyes finally focused on the hands. He pulled himself away from the man he'd been holding and stepped on the one closest to him, expecting it to back off into the darkness. He went to step on the other one while Maxwell fumbled with one of the logs placed around the fire when all three of the hands suddenly turned on him.

"What the--?" Wilson swung his foot at one of them as they slithered closer at an alarmingly fast pace. Usually, the hands would have slunk back into the darkness at the first hint of contact. This time, however, it only seemed to egg them on, and two of the hands latched onto Wilson's throat. The last one grabbed both of his wrists and pinned his arms behind his back.

" _ Fuck _ !" The scientist choked out, his voice becoming raspy. "Maxwell! Don't just  _ stand _ there!"

Maxwell immediately rushed over and latched onto the freezing cold shadow hands with his own in an effort to pry them off. Wilson struggled to breathe, black dots forming at the edges of his vision, and tried without luck to wriggle away from the hands.

'This is it.' Wilson thought as his head began to feel light. 'I can't believe this is how I'm gonna die. Willow, don't forget that I love you.'

Just before he thought he would die from asphyxiation, however, a rustling noise was heard from the darkness.

"Wilson? What's going on?"

Oh, great. Now Willow was going to get to watch him die, too. Tears began to prick at the corner of his eyes.

"Sis..." He managed to choke out, the hands grabbing tighter on his throat. Willow's brow furrowed and her face darkened as she flipped out her lighter.

"Maxwell.  _ Move _ ." She snarled in a tone colder than ice. Maxwell immediately backed away, letting go of the hands secured to his love's throat and Wilson felt a pain in his chest so strong it made him want to scream.

Willow thrust the flame of her lighter into the shadow hands secured around her brother's throat, and they made the most horrible hissing sound any of them had ever heard before slithering away like long, black snakes.

"Holy shit. Hooo-ly SHIT." Wilson panted, struggling to regain his breath and clinging to his sister's shoulder for support. "I'm alive. I'm actually alive. Thank you so much." He hugged his sister as tightly as he could manage. She hugged back.

"It's okay." She pulled away rather quickly. "You." She turned to Maxwell and before anyone could say anything, she slapped him hard.

"What the HELL are you two doing out here that was so important it literally put my brother's life on the line?!" She demanded, putting her lighter away. "You ass. I almost have the mind to say you're the one who summoned those things!"

"Woah, woah, Willow." Wilson grabbed her arm. "Calm down. You're tired and irate. Don't lose your shit now."

"Excuse me. He tried to kill you!" She snapped.

"It wasn't him." Wilson frowned and looked up at Maxwell, placing a hand on his sister's shoulder. "Excuse her, please. She tends to lose her temper when she's tired." This was true, of course, but he’d never seen her sister this irate from exhaustion in his life. It was a bit suspicious, actually.

"I can see that." Maxwell mumbled numbly, rubbing the cheek the petite woman had slapped him on. Wilson could see it was already turning red.

"Come on." Willow grabbed her brother's arm. "You're going to bed. As for you--" She glared back up at Maxwell. "I could care less if you lived or died at this point." With that, she flipped out her lighter and dragged her brother to their shared tent, leaving his Maxwell stuck in the rapidly approaching darkness.

"Willow. What. The. Hell." Wilson grabbed his sister's shoulders as they settled into their tent.

"He tried to kill you." She spat. "Looks like Wigfrid was right. In the morning, I'll kill him myself."

"Sis! He didn't do that! Good god, you’re truly irascible when you're tired." He sighed. "We were just...talking. It's fine. I promise, it wasn't him who brought those things out."

"Then who, Wilson?! Who could it be?" She demanded.

Wilson bit his lip as he remembered the exchange between him and Maxwell about Charlie. "I think I know who," he said. "But we'll talk about her in the morning."

" _ Her _ ." Willow's eyebrows raised with interest. "Huh. Why can't you tell me now?" She whined.

"Because you're tired. The information won't stay in your head. And besides, she might kill us if we do it now."

Willow huffed. "Okay. Fine. But I'm not apologizing to your  _ boyfriend _ for slapping him. He deserved it." She spat out the words like they were venom. Wilson was about to say something but decided it best not to argue with an exhausted pyromaniac who could easily set his scrawny ass on fire, related or not. The two laid down and turned over, facing separate ways, before falling into a deep and dreamless sleep.

~~

"Hey, Wilson. Wakey, wakey, eggs and regret."

Wilson's gray eyes fluttered open and the first thing he noticed was a sharp pain in his neck. "Ouch..."

"What's wrong?" Willow's bad mood from the night before seemed to have cleared up.

"M'neck hurts..." He moaned and sat up. He rubbed his eyes and yawned. 

“Oh dear. What happened?”

Wilson raised an eyebrow. Had she forgotten all that had happened that night? "You don’t remember?"

She nodded grimly. "Yeah, but all I remember was slapping Maxwell and those weird shadow hand things. Ah, Maxwell, that poor bastard. Guess I sort of lost my temper at him." She sighed.

‘She doesn’t seem to know the half of it.’ Wilson thought, a bit shocked that she didn’t remember much of anything. 

"I'll apologize, but you gotta tell me what you two were talking about last night. You said it was a woman. What's her name?" Willow inquired.

Wilson motioned for her to come closer. "Charlie." He whispered the name in her ear, praying that the person wasn't listening, if she was even real at all. “ _ Don’t say it out loud _ .”

"Ah." Willow nodded. "Why don't you want me to say--"

"Shh!" Wilson shushed her urgently. "I'll explain, but first we have to eat, and maybe get something on my throat. Shit, those things were strong." He groaned and rubbed his throat.

"Strange." Willow peered at the skin on her brother's neck. "There's nothing there that indicates you were assaulted."

Wilson shuddered. "You're serious."

"One hundred per-cent."

The scientist bit his lip. "Looks like Wigfrid was right about shadow creatures not leaving marks."

"Speaking of which..." The Higgsbury siblings crawled out of their tent. "You and I need to set aside some time to talk about these shadow creatures. I don't quite get them. Tell me about Maxwell's clones, too. That really interests me." Willow said, dusting off her skirt. 

Wilson nodded. "Later. For now, can you get some honey poultice? It's in that chest over there. Oh, and we need to re-bandage my arm, too." He pointed out a chest by the stone wall. "I'll make breakfast if you do." His sister nodded.

"You don't need to tell me twice." Willow kissed his forehead and went to retrieve the medicine while Wilson prepped some eggs and jam for them, trying not to work his injured arm as much. Wes and Woodie were awake, tending to the berry farm not too far away. They both seemed very weighed down with grief. Wilson then remembered what all had gone down yesterday and began to feel a depressing aura settling in the air.

"Oh boy." He mumbled. Today was going to be a rough one. Part of him wanted to let them mourn, but he also felt like it was holding them back. From what, he wasn’t sure, but it was  _ something _ . He sighed and tried not to think about it and instead compiled a list of things to do today as he brought the morning meal to his sister, who was waiting patiently on a log by the fire pits.

"One of the logs is missing." She remarked as her brother sat down next to her.

"Yeah. Maxwell threw it into the fire in a last attempt to save our asses last night." He paled suddenly. "Wait...what happened to him, anyway? We just left him out here last I remember."

Willow paled too. "Shit. I forgot about him for a moment." She cautiously took a bit of egg and ate it. "Well, he should be fine, I think. He probably found his way back to his tent on his own.”

Wilson wanted to snap back that he could have easily gotten killed thanks to her, but instead, he busied himself with unwrapping the dirty bandages from his arm. The two continued eating in awkward silence, and afterwards Willow opened the jar of honey poultice.

"Unbutton your shirt so I can actually get to your neck." She commanded lightly, opening the jar of amber liquid. Wilson did as he was told, unbuttoning three and pulling aside the fabric of the white shirt. Willow applied the medicine to her brother's aching neck and he sighed with relief at just feeling it on his sensitive skin.

“Now your arm.” Willow unwrapped the bandages and applied the healing solution to the cuts in Wilson’s arm, making him wince. “These are deep cuts.” She glared up at him as she re-wrapped his arm. “Don’t go pulling some nonsense like that again, okay? I get why you did it, but still.”

Wilson sighed. “Yes ma’am.”

"Oh, look who it is." Willow's eyes flickered over to the tent as a large, thin figure left the area.

"Oh, thank god." Wilson breathed a sigh of relief. Maxwell seemed a little roughed up, but otherwise okay. He had a cigar between his fingers and appeared to be fumbling for something to light it with.

"Maxwell!" Before her brother could stop her, Willow called out to the exhausted looking man. He looked surprised and a bit wary that the woman had called on him, but he came over anyway.

"Uh...sorry for slapping you like that last night." Willow blushed sheepishly. "I wasn't really thinking straight. Need a lighter?" She asked, pointing to the cig between the man's fingers.

He nodded. "Apology accepted." Wilson felt his face heat up at the sound of the man's voice this early in the morning. He had to admit, it sounded attractive. Maxwell flashed him a small smile as Willow lit the cigar with his lighter, which only made him blush harder and mumble a "good morning". The magician chuckled, thanked the man's sister, and moved off to another area to smoke it.

"Wow. You've really got feelings for him, don't you?" Willow laughed, putting her lighter away. 

"Shhh!" Wilson gave her a rough shove. "Don't let anyone hear you! Besides, you're gay too, aren't you?" He laughed, but on the inside he felt really uneasy. What Willow had said to that person the night before was really bothering him. While there was pretty firm evidence that this "Charlie" woman not only existed but was the one behind all this mess, the idea of Maxwell setting this whole thing up just to fuck with everyone had been tugging at his brain since day one. Maybe Wigfrid was right. Maybe this was all just a joke, and yet for some reason he desperately wanted to believe that wasn't the case. His heart pounded in his ribcage like a drum when he thought of being with Maxwell, and these feelings were somehow undeterred by the concept of him being a murderer in top of all the other things that had been done to him by the former king in the past. From the day he was contacted on the radio to the moment they met in the chasm for the first time, their relationship had always been very rocky, though his memories of exactly what had happened between them had gotten a bit fuzzy at times. Wilson had a hard time understanding where this new affection had suddenly come from on both sides, but especially on his own. It felt suspicious and wrong, and yet the feelings came so easily to him that he felt they had to be right somehow.

One part of his mind wanted to deny that Maxwell could be faking his love with all he had. The other part desperately needed to believe that it was the truth, even though he consciously knew it would be like tearing himself apart.

"Well...uh, Wilson? I didn't hit a nerve, did I?" Willow cocked her head and gave her brother a sympathetic glance. The scientist shook his head.

"No, no, it's just..." He sighed. "I hate  _ feelings _ ." He mumbled.

"Ditto to that." His sister sighed, recognizing his discomfort right away. "Hey, why don't you show me your science stuff? You still do experiments here, right?"

Wilson's eyes lit up. Science had been his go-to comfort since he could first remember, and he always did enjoy sharing his work with Willow. She actually cared about it.

"Oh, yeah!" He nodded. His throat was beginning to feel much better already, he noticed. "I set up a little lab not too far away from here. I've got all sorts of stuff I've written there about my work and observations. Come on, I'll show you." He took Willow's hand and led her out of the base camp. "Don't worry, it's not a HUGE distance away. I think we should be able to make it in a few minutes." His words all began to pour out at once like they always did when he was excited. "So while we're here, I've got to ask: the night before you came here, describe it to me."

"Hmm..." Willow squeezed her brother's hand. "It was...I believe 25 November, 1923."

Wilson sucked in his breath. 1923. It had been almost  _ ten years _ since he'd gotten kicked out. Well, that  _ would _ explain why Willow had looked more than a bit older than he last remembered her, but she had said nothing to him in her whole time of being here about him looking older. Had he even aged at all, or was she just being polite? It hadn’t  _ felt _ that long to him. Had he  _ really _ been here that long, or did time work differently here than in their old reality? There were so many questions in his mind that he decided to just shut them all out, for the sheer capacity of these questions was enough to make his brain explode.

"Intriguing. Tell me more." Was all he said in response.

"I was looking for you, you know. Even after all this time, I still felt like I could find you again. That night, I'd hidden out in an old church for a bit. My original plan was to steal some food and sneak out, but I fell asleep in my hiding space and woke up during the middle of a sermon."

Wilson groaned. The two hadn't been to church but maybe three times, and while their parents were both devoted Christians, the siblings considered themselves to be aggressively atheist,  _ especially _ Wilson. "Oh boy. Just what kind of enlightening information did they teach you that night, dear sister?"

"Commandments. Something about 'you shall not kill', 'honor thy mother and father', whatever."

Wilson snorted. "'Honor thy mother and father'? Well, we certainly did a shit job of that, didn't we?"

They laughed.

"They had it coming anyways." Willow ran her thumb over Wilson's knuckle affectionately. "After it was finally over, I snuck out of the church unseen and wandered into the woods. I didn't think you'd be in there until I found an old cabin. I knew you’d been there from the menagerie of science tools strewn about the room, but I wasn’t sure where you’d gone until I saw that portal you’d built.”

Wilson sucked in his breath. He’d forgotten about the portal and the radio that had brought him here. “Oh yeah, that thing?”

Willow nodded. “How did you do it?” 

Wilson chuckled bitterly. “Would you believe me if I said the radio gave me instructions for it?”

“At this point, I’d believe just about anything you’d have to say.” His sister shook her head. “Damn. This world’s so...different. Unusual. Anything’s possible, as far as I’ve seen, so I’m not about to make any assumptions.”

“Good call.” The scientist nodded. “Even I’m still surprised by some of what goes on around here, and I was the first one here besides Maxwell.”

“Is that so?” Willow whistled. “Wow. There’s a lot to be told about the history of this place, then, isn’t there? Who came first, what happened, et cetera...good God. What all have I missed?”

“Lots, dear sister.” Wilson chuckled. “There’s so much to tell you, and so little time.”

“Well, where should we begin, then?” 

“Right here.” Incidentally, they happened to come across Wilson’s meager base just as soon as he’d said it. There was a science machine, alchemy engine, a wooden table with papers and quills strewn about it, chests, and a small farm off to the side whose crops were flourishing. “Woah! Looks like that fertilizer I put out there really worked!” He forgot about his most recent experiments, what with everything that had gone down over the past few days. 

“What did you use on them?” Willow asked in awe, running her pale fingers over a waxy lettuce leaf. 

“A mix of beefalo manure, eggshells, and a few other things I forgot...I probably have notes on them somewhere.” Wilson began to dig through the chests, which were filled with books and loose sheets of paper. Willow watched him, slackjawed. 

“You’ve been busy!” She picked up one of the books off the ground and began to flip through it. “Jesus! How do you get time to write all this?” 

“I do it on the run, usually.” Her brother replied simply. “Otherwise I take notes in my head on what’s around me and copy them once I get the chance. I once spent so long writing in one of these back at the main base that Wickerbottom had to drag me away from the table so that I could eat.” He laughed, but it faded away once he remembered that Wickerbottom was...well. It left a pang of sadness to so much as think it.

“I see.” Willow cleared a spot on the table and leaned against it. “Got anything on those shadow monsters?”

“Uh…” Wilson blushed, embarrassed. “Admittedly, I’ve always had this weird superstition that they’d try to hurt me if I wrote anything down about them, but I could tell you things from memory if you want.”

Willow nodded. “Go ahead. Is that like your thing about never rolling up your right shirt sleeve first, but it’s the other way around for pants legs?”

The scientist’s face turned a darker shade of red. “Yes. Now drop it, please. That’s a compulsion that I can’t seem to drop and it sort of makes me uncomfortable when people bring it up.”

“Oh. Sorry about that.” Willow turned over the crudely bound book in her hands. “So tell me, then, about the shadows. What are they like?”

“Well, first of all, ‘shadows’ is a very broad term….” 

Thus Wilson rambled on for what must have been a millenia and a half about the shadows, giving every last bit of information he knew on them, and all the while his sister payed close attention.

“I’m not an expert, though. If you’d like, I’ll ask Maxwell to tell you more. Magic and other supernatural things are his niche. For me, not so much.”

“Alright. Well, we should do that, then.” Willow looked up and saw that the sky overhead was beginning to darken, but not from the time becoming dusk. “Oh dear. It might rain.”

“Yes, I think it will.” Wilson looked up, too, and saw that rain clouds were forming. That on top of the impending winter was a recipe for one or both of them to become frozen. “Come on, we should get going now. I don’t want us to get rained on here.”

“Sure, but first I think we need to harvest these crops. It can’t hurt to pick a few of them, right?”

“Right.”

Turns out, it hurt a lot.

The two managed to harvest the small crop, but by the time they were done, it had just begun pouring. Wilson always hated the rain for one reason and one reason only; it was absolute sensory hell for him. While other people didn’t feel it the same way he did, to Wilson, the rain was always thick like honey and stuck on the skin, leaving an itching sensation that drove him utterly mad. It was even worse for him on his bandaged arm. Desperate to get out of the rain, the Higgsbury siblings sprinted down the path to the base, but about halfway there, Wilson saw that his sister’s lips and the tip of her nose were starting to turn blue. She’d freeze if they stayed out for much longer. Wilson knew that much from experience.

“Hey, Willow, how are you holding up?” Wilson wrapped an arm around  his sister’s shoulder. 

“Fine.” She managed through chattering teeth. 

“Liar.” Wilson scolded lightly. “It’s okay, we’ll be there soon. I think I see the stone walls just up ahead.”

It took a bit of effort, and Willow nearly collapsed on the way, despite her insistence that she was doing alright. Wilson brought her to the fire pits, where Webber and Wendy sat together by a blazing fire. A few thermal stones were being heated up, and the children already had on earmuffs and beefalo wool sweaters that a certain old librarian and Wigfrid worked together to make for them a few winters before. 

“Hey, you two.” Wilson sat down next to his shivering little sister, an arm still protectively around her shoulders. “Where’s everyone else?”

“I expect they’ll be coming soon.” Wendy said, turning Abigail’s flower over in her hands. “This weather’s quite nasty, even for the start of winter.”

“I agree.” Webber looked around at the thick sheets of precipitation falling around them. The rain fell so heavily, you could hardly see through it. “What shall we do about it, then?”

“I’m afraid we can’t change the weather,” Wilson sighed. “But we can at least reduce the effects it has on us. Stay by the fire, and keep Willow warm for me while I grab extra fuel and clothing. Let’s see, we only have six of our twelve thermal stones out, so I’ll get those, too, so that everyone can have at least one. Give me a bit, I’ll be right back.” He got up, and despite how badly the rain bothered him, managed to dig through a few of the chests for six  thermal stones and ten boards. When he brought them back, he found everybody crowded around the fires, all equally as soaked and miserable as he was. He sat down next to Maxwell. 

“I suppose we’re just going to have to wait this one out, huh?” Wilson asked the man as he laid out the other six thermal stones and threw two more boards into the fire. Maxwell simply nodded in response.

The compulsion to grab Maxwell’s gloved hand came over him, but shamefully Wilson tucked it away, and for a few reasons. For one, he didn’t want to display any affection for this man in front of anybody, especially when he was still so unsure of himself. For another thing, the mood was all wrong. Finally, despite all that had  happened between them, despite everything he was told last night in the startlingly poetic format that the scientist would have expected from anybody but him, there was still a tiny,  _ tiny _ bit of doubt lingering inside of his heart, latched on like a burr. It filled him with guilt to think badly of Maxwell after all that had been done for him by the man already--Christ’s sake, he brought back  _ his sister _ , God knows how he managed to pull that one off--but those feelings only brought forth even more negative thoughts that made his head spin. He wanted nothing more than to just hold Maxwell in the pouring rain, lean on him for comfort, but these things are what held him back, and these things he _ hated _ . They were unavoidable, though, weren’t they? 

Life was truly a bitch at the worst of times, Wilson thought. That ought to be a fact.

He overheard a hushed whisper between his sister and Wigfrid.

“Are you serious? They’re a--?”

“Winnie, dear, come off it. They’re no different than us.”

“Oh, Willow, the list of things that make us differ may as well be as long as Maxwell is tall!” 

“And? They’re not hurting anybody. Leave ‘em alone.”

“You know the situation, Willow. He could hurt your brother. How’ve you not kicked his arse to the moon ‘n back for it yet?” Wilson couldn’t help but wonder if Wigfrid knew that the two she was talking about were sitting within hearing range.

“Because, as you said, he’s my brother. I don’t control him, and he doesn’t control me. I won’t try to stop him. Besides, look: he’s happy. That’s what I want for him, Winnie, just the same as what I want for you.”

Wigfrid sighed, and out of the corner of his eye he noticed Willow press a gentle kiss to the side of Wigfrid’s forehead. “Like I said, calm down. It’ll all work out in the end.”

“Whenever that is.” Wigfrid grumbled, but she seemed to brighten up a bit after the kiss and leaned into Willow’s side, holding her hand and lacing their fingers together. Either no one around them saw or no one really cared, save for Wilson, who smiled at the sight.

‘Adorable.’ He thought, proud of his sister for finally making it that far with someone, regardless of their sex. ‘Now how the hell do  _ I _ reach that level with somebody?’ He found himself desiring contact again and tried to push the feeling out of his mind. 

Eventually, the rain let up, but by then it was dusk. The children complained of being hungry, so the adults dished out food, including what the Higgsbury siblings had harvested earlier in the day. Promptly afterwards, everyone went to bed, each clutching a thermal stone. The only exceptions to this, however, were two very curious Higgsburies and a certain former king. 

“Maxwell!” Just as the magician got up, Willow grabbed his jacket sleeve, and quickly pulled away. “Er--sorry. I just wanted to know if maybe you wanted to stay for a little while. See, I had some questions regarding your book and the shadows…”

To the surprise of Wilson, Maxwell didn’t get mad at her. Instead, he actually smiled a bit. “Well, I guess you’ve come to the right person. Wilson, get more fuel for the fire. Willow, sit down. Make yourself comfortable. What is it you’d like to know about the shadows, exactly?”

“Tell me about the woman you and Wilson discussed.” She requested in a hushed voice. “Wilson wouldn’t tell me any more than her name, but now I’m horribly curious, and he said to come to you about the matter.”

Maxwell gave the scientist a strange look before turning back to Willow. “Well, alright, then. I suppose I have time to tell you about her. Wilson, you should also stay out here. I think you should hear this as well.”

Both siblings were pleasantly surprised to see this wonderfully suave side to Maxwell. It  made Wilson’s heart pound in his chest, but he mildly scolded himself for it. When he returned with his arms full of boards, he saw Willow sitting on one log, fumbling with her lighter as she waited for her brother to return, and Maxwell sitting on the one directly to the right of her. He leaned forward and lit a cigar in the fire just as Wilson made himself comfortable on the log to the right of Maxwell. 

“So.” The magician leaned back slightly, taking a drag on the cigar. Both siblings piped to attention. “You want to know about  _ her _ .” Willow and Wilson nodded, and the older brother tossed a board into the fire.

“First of all, I don’t want to say her name. I don’t want either of you saying it, either. We’re already talking about someone who’s listening. Quite literally, we’re playing with fire here, or in this case, shadows.” He paused for another drag. “She’s extremely dangerous. It surprises me how much  _ they _ \--the shadows--can change a person. I guess I should start with the beginning, about how I met her and all that.”

The siblings exchanged glances and nodded in unison at Maxwell. 

“Please do.” They urged. 

Maxwell nodded. “Very well, then.” He took a deep breath. “When I was a little boy, I had a strange obsession with magic. This obsession carried over into adolescence and eventually adulthood. Against the wishes of my parents, I bought a ferry ticket to America, hoping to set up my own traveling magic show under the name of ‘The Great Maxwell’. Shortly after I arrived, I met her. She became my assistant, and also my only close friend. With her, I did several successful shows in a handful of states.” He paused. “To get from place to place, we had to hitch a ride in the trains that came through town. After one particular show, we stopped to rest in an old circus train. In one of the train cars is where I found the Codex Umbra. Right away, I was captivated. The idea of monsters formed from shadows...it seemed impossible, and made them all the more fantastic to me. Slowly, I became obsessed with this book. At one point, I settled down in a small town in Oregon with my assistant, and we planned to do a series of shows there for a while. This was at the peak of my fascination with the Codex Umbra and the information inside. The book had made me crazy; I had a tendency to jot down notes about Them on sheets of paper and on the walls, and spent many nights without sleeping because of the damn thing.” He shuddered. “It makes me feel queasy to think about it.” 

“You don’t have to continue if you don’t want to.” Willow said softly. 

“No.” Maxwell insisted. “Please. I'll be fine.” 

The Higgburies exchanged a glance and continued to listen. 

“One night, Ch--” The magician caught himself. “ _ She _ came to my apartment to see me, but I wasn’t home. I later found  out she was going to try to ask me to come to breakfast with her the next day. However, I wasn’t home at the time. She and I were comfortable enough with one another at this point that she just let herself in, unaware of what I had been doing behind those closed doors. She saw everything; the words I’d written on the walls, the crude sketches of the monsters from the books, everything. She thought I was crazy, and suggested when she next saw me that we take a break after our next show. She didn’t tell me what she’d seen, however.

“It so happened that our next show would be that night. Since it would be our last one for a while, I decided I’d bring in a little surprise. I had been practicing a few tricks using the Codex Umbra, and thought I’d be able to make more money off of this last performance by pulling a shadow out of the book for the audience. Looking back, I don’t know what I was thinking. It was such a ridiculous idea. Near the end of the show, I did it. I reached into the book and got ahold of a shadow, but then...something went wrong. To this day, I’m not sure what it was, but it caused the shadows to grab ahold of myself and  _ her  _ and pull us into their realm.

“They chose me to be the one to rule with the shadow throne. I don’t know why. She, on the other hand, was changed by the shadows. She became the darkness. Ever wonder what it was that killed you if you wandered around without a light?” Maxwell looked over at Wilson.

Wilson bit his lip. “I did, actually. It was her?”

Maxwell nodded grimly. “She used to be a happy, cheerful woman with a wide smile and wouldn't hurt a fly. I swear, it’s true. Over time, however, she changed. She almost seemed to split into two people. There was the side of her I was familiar with, and then there was…” He shuddered. “I think it’s the one we’re seeing now.

“Willow, if it wasn’t for your brother, I’d still be on the shadow throne. However, as punishment for removing me, he had to serve time on the throne.”

Willow gasped. “Really?” She asked and looked over at Wilson anxiously.

Wilson nodded. “Yes, but...for some reason, I don’t think I remember anything about it. I don’t know how long I was on there, what I did if I even did anything at all, or how I got off. However, Maxwell and I think that she somehow managed to get me off the throne and bring me into this world with him.” 

His sister bit her lip. “Good god...you’ve both been through so much.” Her bottom lip quivered. “I wish I could have helped you.” She averted her eyes, tears welling up in them.

“Oh, Willow, don’t cry!” Wilson reached out to touch her hand, but was singed by the fire and pulled back. “It’s okay! We’re both alright now, don’t be upset.”

“If you want to help us,” Maxwell continued. “This is the right place to start. No reason for tears, dear. You can’t change the past, only the future.”

Willow sniffed. “I suppose you’re right.” She wiped her eyes on her sleeve. “What do you want me to do, then?”

Wilson and Maxwell exchanged glances.

“Actually, I’m not sure.” The scientist ran his fingers over his bandaged arm. “What should we do from here?”

Maxwell sighed. “I don’t know. I really don’t know.”

Willow placed a hand on Maxwell’s shoulder. “Well, thank you anyway. I think that’ll be enough for now. You’re not looking so good.”

“It’s alright, Willow, I’ll be fine.” The magician took a final drag on his cigar and tossed what remained of it into the fire. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Positive.”

“Willow, why don’t you get some sleep?” Maxwell offered suddenly. “I’m sure this has been a lot for you to process.”

“Yeah, give it some time to settle in.” Wilson nodded. “It’s getting late, anyway.”

Willow mulled over this for a moment. “Well...okay, but please don’t stay out too late again. Learn from last night, will you?” Willow got up and kissed Wilson on the forehead. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” The men responded. As soon as she was out of sight, Maxwell looked over at Wilson anxiously.

“Does she know?” He asked quietly. “About...you know.”

Wilson nodded. “Yeah. You can’t really keep stuff from her. I hope you don’t mind.” He said. “Hey...can you answer one more question for me?”

“Go ahead.” Maxwell shrugged. “And no, I don’t mind. It would get out eventually, I think. Anyway, what is it?”

“What you said about the shadows changing people...is it possible for the effects to be reversed?” He rubbed his hands together by the fire. “Like...well. Let’s say someone who’s a warm and affectionate person was stuck on the shadow throne for a while, and it made them irascible and cruel. If they were removed from the throne, would their old personality slowly return to them?” He looked over at Maxwell, anxiously awaiting an answer and internally praying he wouldn’t ask the scientist his motives for asking.

Maxwell sat in thought for a moment. “I’m not sure. It could be possible, though. Why?”

That dreaded question of why made Wilson tense. “I...well. You’ve just been acting different lately. I’m wondering if it was her messing with your behavior for whatever reason she may have or if there’s something else.”

Maxwell drew in a breath. “Ah. I see.”

Wilson nodded. “Yeah, uh...just, the whole thing about wanting to make amends with me and then the kissing we’ve done and that thing you said to me last night...it’s just not something I would have expected from you, you know? Not after all that’s happened between us.”

“I see what you mean. I have felt myself beginning to lighten up a bit more lately. I don’t know much of why or how, but it’s nice.” Maxwell sighed, a little bitterly. “I’ll be honest..I haven’t felt truly happy in a while. Maybe being free from the shadow throne has brought back my past disposition.” He chuckled. 

Wilson felt his entire face heating up at the sound of his laugh. Maybe he  _ was _ in love, after all. Even still, that one little bit of doubt within him was raging strong enough to make him rethink that idea over and over again, even though he was fairly confident that this was how he felt. He wondered if those feelings were even his own, or if they’d been planted in there by her. He doubted it was the latter, though.

“Maxwell.” The scientist bit his lip. The magician looked over at him with interest. “Do you think Charlie may try to hurt us for telling about her?”

“I doubt it.” Maxwell shrugged. “I mean, she already makes herself known in other ways. She probably doesn’t give two shits, honestly.”

“Good point.” Wilson sighed with relief. “So then, why did you tell Willow not to say her name or anything like that?”

“Didn’t want to take any chances.”

That answer raised a few red flags for Wilson, but he was a bit too chilly to care. “Brisk tonight, isn’t it?”

Maxwell nodded. “You can move closer, if you want.”

“To the fire or you?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Maxwell chuckled, and the scientist found himself become flustered at the sound of his laugh yet again. 

“You’ve got a nice laugh, you know.” Wilson mumbled, his cheeks turning pink. 

“You think so?” The smaller man felt an arm wrap around his shoulder. 

“I didn’t actually think you’d hear that.” He admitted. “But yeah, I do.”

Wilson looked over at Maxwell and saw he was blushing, too. The glowing fire softened the hard lines on his face, and in a way made him more attractive. An urge came over the man to kiss the magician again, the way they’d done it the night before, but that one little shit of a premonition that Maxwell was still dangerous threatened to stop him. 

‘Fuck it,’ he decided. ‘Love or not, murderer or not,  _ I want this _ . That much I know. Even if it’s just a desire to distract myself from the mess that is this world...oh, to hell with it all. Let me have it.’

“Maxwell.” Wilson cupped the man’s cheek and ran his thumb over his cheekbone. “You know...about last night…” 

“Hm?” Maxwell raised an eyebrow, some of the pink on his cheeks fading away.

“I...uh…” He sighed. “Might as well be honest. I’ve been a bit stressed, alright, and when we kissed last night, it made me feel a lot better.” He swallowed nervously. “So I was wondering if you’d be willing to do it again.” He felt his face heating up to ungodly temperatures and screwed his eyes shut from embarrassment, anxiously awaiting the response. A few seconds later, he felt Maxwell kiss him on the forehead, then on the cheek, and finally on the mouth. Again, that addictive warmth spread throughout the scientist’s chest, and he wrapped his arms around the magician’s back. Was this love, or just a lust for affection? Whatever it was, Wilson only cared that it had rewired his brain to crave this satisfying touch, and god, it felt amazing when the desire was fulfilled. He could do this all night if he could, but he knew it had to stop somewhere, so just as soon as they’d begun, Wilson pulled away.

“Thank you.” He smiled, kissing the magician on the cheek and pressing their forehead together. The bridge of Maxwell’s hooked nose was pressed against his own and they sat there together for a few seconds before the scientist said “Willow will be waiting for me. I’m sorry…”

“It’s alright.” Maxwell gingerly brushed a strand of inky black hair out of Wilson’s face. “Sleep well.” 

“You too.” Wilson replied before quickly kissing him again and, much to his dislike, pulling away. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

And with that, the scientist got up and headed to his tent.


	9. Chapter 9- Run.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the title states. Get on it, everybody.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the wait (again). I have testing next week for class, so I'm going to take forever to churn out another chapter. Forgive me.

When Wilson finally settled into his tent, it took a moment to realize his sister wasn’t in there with him.

It hit him like a brick when he noticed that the space next to him was empty. 

“Ohh no.” Panic quickly set in and he glanced around rapidly. “Willow?” Where could she be at this hour? A thousand possible ideas raced through his mind, so quickly, in fact, that he was about two seconds away from completely blanking out when someone opened the tent.

“Oh, god. Wilson?” Willow’s hair was untied and messy, her shirt crudely buttoned and her collar crooked. “Uh...hi.”

“Where  _ were _ you?!” Wilson demanded. “I was on the verge of a mental breakdown!”

“Sorry, sorry!” Willow crawled into the tent next to her brother and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “I’m...I was just...I thought I had more time…”

“ _ Where were you _ ?” Wilson asked again, a bit less angry this time now that he’d seen what state she was in. He had a pretty good idea of where she’d been now. She mumbled something in response. “Hm?”

“Wigfrid’s tent.” She said sheepishly, her face a little flushed. “I’m sorry, I thought you’d stay out later…” She let go of Wilson and buried her face in her hands, embarrassed.

Wilson processed this for a moment. “About what I would have expected. Whatever happened to ‘planned on dating’? I mean, I’m not upset with you or anything, except for your not telling me you’d be screwing around with her and would be back late and instead left me here to have a heart attack over your absence…”

“Buzz off! We weren’t...ugh.” Willow huffed. “Look, I’m as stressed as you, alright? We both are. Neither of us are sure how long we’ve got left, what with recent events and everything, Winnie’s scared out of her mind that everyone thinks she did it and we’re just trying to get as much time together as possible. Is that a problem?”

“I’d appreciate it if you had at least told me you’d be out late.” Wilson replied bitterly. “But no, it’s not a problem. I was just worried about you is all. Please don’t be mad at me.”

“Well, are you mad at me?” Willow asked.

“No…”

“Then I’m not mad at you.” Willow pecked him on the forehead. “Let’s just go to sleep now, alright? Lighten up. I’m sure you and Maxwell were doing the same thing out there.”

Wilson sighed. “You could be right, you could be wrong.” He flopped back under the sheets and Willow joined him. “Well, goodnight, I guess.”

“Goodnight.” 

They fell asleep shortly after.

~~

Almost as soon as he closed his eyes, a blinding white light rendered Wilson sightless for a few brief moments before his eyes focused. 

‘Oh, boy.’ He groaned internally, recognizing right away where he was. ‘Not this shit again.’

It was the same room in which Charlie coerced him into almost shooting his sister. Almost.

For a while, Wilson just stood there, motionless, waiting for Charlie to make her move on him. By this point he was pretty damn certain she was the one behind his weird dreams. It would certainly explain why he was unable to control himself for the most part here, at least.

Finally, he got tired of waiting.

“Charlie, come out. I know it’s you.” It was probably the most impulsive and ballsy thing he’d ever said, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. Whatever she wanted to do to him, he wanted over as soon as possible. Just like that, he heard a soft whoosh noise that sent such a strong feeling of surprise through him that it was paralyzing.

“Impatient, aren’t you?” She was right behind him, but the scientist was too scared to turn his head and see what she looked like. “Well, I guess if you’re so desperate to see what I’ve got for you tonight, I’ll let you have it.”

A snap of her fingers and Wilson felt the familiar feeling of a gun pressed into his hand. It was about what he would have expected. He tightened his fingers around it, waiting for his instructions to get this over with as soon as possible.

“Now…” Charlie’s shoes clicked across the floor as she began to pace behind him. “Let’s say you’ve been faced with the choice of having to kill one of two people.” She snapped her fingers again and before him appeared two people--no, illusions of people. Wilson knew better. It was Wigfrid, and to her left was Willow. The blank expressions on their faces gave the scientist the chills. 

“You have to choose one.” Charlie suddenly placed a hand on Wilson’s shoulder, and he flinched. Even through his clothing, he could feel how cold her hand was. “You do not have the chance to wake up until you pick.”

Wilson swallowed. This was going to be hard. 

‘It’s just a dream.’ He reminded himself. ‘Stay calm.’ 

“Do you know how to fire a gun?” Charlie asked after a bit of silence.

“Yeah.” Wilson tightened his hands around the weapon. At least his arms could move. 

‘It’s just a dream.’ He reminded himself again. ‘Just do it.’ Even still, he couldn’t pull the trigger. Even in a dream, it didn’t feel right. It would never feel right to him.

“Come on, now.” Charlie prompted. “Point the weapon and shoot. Surely a brilliant man like yourself knows how one of these works?” 

Part of Wilson wanted to accept the “brilliant man” part as a compliment and the other half wanted to drop everything, turn around, and slap her to the ground for insulting him like that. The man instead bit his lip, pointed the gun at Wigfrid, screwed his eyes shut and pulled the trigger. What he’d expected to hear was the sickening thump of a body hitting the floor and possibly even the sound of Willow screaming at watching her lover die, but neither came, and it only seemed to make the bone-chilling silence of the room even louder. 

“Good. Now open your eyes.” Charlie prompted, and Wilson obeyed, because he knew he had no choice. The illusions of Wigfrid and Willow that had stood before him moments before were gone now. “Your eyes are such a pretty shade of gray, you know, both yours and Willow’s.”

“Is that so.” Wilson stared, bewildered, at the empty space before him. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected at this point. It was Charlie pulling the reins here, after all. ‘Expect the unexpected, and prepare for the worst.’

Charlie hummed with approval. “Now, let’s see...what to do with you next? I’m not going to let you wake up just yet.” She began to pace behind him again, making Wilson’s stomach churn. How long had he actually been asleep for, he wondered, and how much longer was Charlie going to make him sleep? A sickening thought crossed his mind for a split second of Willow in tears because her brother had slept so long she thought he was dead, and it made the scientist’s hatred of Charlie and her antics grow even more.

“Don’t worry, I won’t keep you down for too long.” The woman suddenly stopped pacing. “I can tell what you’re thinking, you know, and it’s quite interesting. You must really love Willow, don’t you?” 

Out of pure spite, Wilson didn’t respond.

“Playing the quiet game with me, I see. Well, I don’t blame you, but you’ll have to succumb to me sometime.” She laughed. “After all, I do control you, at least in here I do.” She tapped the side of his forehead with a single finger. Wilson found himself frozen again, just before he was to turn around and get a good look at her face. She seemed close enough for him to do so, but he couldn’t, and that bothered him all the more. 

“Why are you doing this?” The scientist demanded, trying desperately to prevent himself from succumbing to panic.    
“That I won’t tell you,” She responded, almost joyfully. “Yet.”

“Then what will you do to me next?” He dreaded the response, but it killed him not to know. 

“Again,” She chirped. “I won’t tell.” 

Wilson clenched his teeth. He felt trapped, like a lab rat. There was no easily comprehensible way that he could think of to describe how horrible it felt to be held hostage like this, and in his own mind, nonetheless. There must be some way for him to get her to let him go. Suddenly, an idea came into his head. He prayed Charlie wouldn’t find it out.

“I don’t know what it is you want from me, Charlie, but playing god isn’t going to get it from me.” He remarked, a bit flatly. 

“Oh really?” She chuckled. “Don’t underestimate me. I could kill you right here if I wanted to.”

“But you won’t. I know you won’t.” He tried to suppress a snicker. He could tell this was quickly going to make her mad, and that amused him.   
“And what makes you think that?” 

“You would have done it already if you wanted to.” He shrugged, saying it like it was common knowledge. Maybe this wasn’t the smartest thing to do, but boy, did it feel good to piss Charlie off like this. “What’s the point of this, anyway? You said you’d plan to tell me later, didn’t you? It’s later now, so go ahead and just say it.”

“Wiseass.” Wilson heard a woosh and felt her grab him by the back of the shirt. “Don’t be smart.”

“Last I checked, my intelligence is the only reason I’ve been able to survive this world for long.” The scientist bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. 

“You insolent little shit.” The woman behind him kneed him in the back hard, sending him sprawling onto the floor. The gun in his right hand made a metallic noise as it crashed against the ground with him. “Don’t you dare forget: I control you. I’m more powerful than I’ve let on, you know. Not even all of you and your puny friends, Maxwell included, could take me down if they all worked their hardest and in unison. Therefore, I suggest you quit being such a wiseass to me and learn some obedience. While I’m here, you obey me. No one else.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” Wilson shuddered as he tried to prop himself up on his arms. “I take it you’ve been watching me, haven’t you? During the day, I mean.”

Charlie paused. “I have. Why?”

“Then if there’s one thing you should know about me,” The scientist grabbed the gun next to him. “It’s that no one controls me. Not even you.” He cocked it, the sound of the bullet clicking into its chamber echoing in the room. He held it to the side of his head as he rose to his feet, back still turned to the person behind him, who scoffed.

“Shoot yourself. I don’t care!” She laughed. “You may wake up from it, and you may die. I won’t tell you which it is.” She sang, mockingly. However, she didn’t realize that that wasn’t exactly what he had planned.

“Fine by me.” Wilson raised his finger to pull the trigger. He took a deep breath and, spinning on his heel to face Charlie, quickly moved the gun from his head to point it at her. Only then did he shoot. 

For a split second, he saw her face. He could see it was pale and framed by thick black hair that fell around her chin like soft feathers, and her thin eyebrows were raised in surprise at his sudden move. However, as soon as he pulled the trigger, his eyes shot open in the tent and he sat up, panting, and instantly he forgot what the woman looked like. It took him a moment to realize what had just taken place, but once the memory flooded back, he immediately congratulated himself for his fast thinking. 

“Willow?” Wilson looked over to his side and saw his sister sleeping peacefully next to him. 

‘Oh, thank god. At least I wasn’t too late for that.’ He breathed a sigh of relief. Willow stirred in her sleep, and a few seconds later her eyes fluttered open. She yawned, a bit discombobulated from sleep, and groggily looked up at her brother. 

“What time is it?” She mumbled.

Wilson peeked outside the tent and saw the sun beginning to rise over the horizon. He also saw Wigfrid, spear in hand, leaving the camp. 

“Your wife is just now leaving, so I’m guessing it’s pretty early.” 

“She’s not my wife, you ass.” Willow lightly punched him on the arm as she sat up, but smiled. “I’ll be right back.” She stumbled out of the tent and Wilson watched her run over to Wigfrid, who seemed surprised to find Willow awake this early but was nonetheless delighted. They embraced one another, Wigfrid’s fingers tangled in Willow’s thick black hair that fell all the way down to her waist when untied, and pulled away a while later with a quick kiss. Willow mumbled something into her ear and the redhead gave her a reassuring pat on the back. 

“Don’t worry, dear. I’ll be fine.” Wilson heard the performance artist reply in a soothing voice. One more kiss to the forehead from the woman and she was gone. Willow returned with a goofy smile and a blush on her cheeks. 

“Well, you two must be going steady.” Wilson exited the tent and yawned, stretching himself out. 

“I guess you could say we are.” Willow replied quietly, running her fingers over her cheek. Wilson couldn’t help but feel extremely jealous at how happy she was with Wigfrid. Even though she was younger, he actually had a tendency to get jealous of her for a long time. She was so pretty compared to him, and adults always seemed to treat her better for some reason. There was a time, he remembered guiltily, when he thought that because Willow was a woman, people liked her more. Consequently, he found himself frequently wondering if people would love him more as a girl than a boy. He’d since outgrown that train of thought, but that wasn’t the end of him being jealous of her. He figured there would never be an end to his jealousy, now that he knew she was still alive.

“Lucky.” He blurted. Willow looked at him strangely and then laughed. 

“Aww, looks like someone’s jealous.” She lightly punched him on the shoulder. 

‘Oh, if only you knew the half of it.’ Wilson thought bitterly, but laughed it off. “Yeah, sure. Let’s get some food in us, then, and since it’s wintertime I guess we need to finish harvesting the rest of the farms to add to our stash of resources. Nothing grows in the winter, so we’ve got to be careful about that.” He explained as the two made their way over to the campfires. 

“Ah.” Willow nodded in understanding. “Well. I guess we don’t want any of the plants dying on us, do we? This vest is quite nice. You all make this stuff yourselves?”

Wilson nodded proudly. “Yeah. They’re quite warm. Saved my butt from freezing on more than one occasion.” He grabbed some boards from a chest and started fires in each of the three fire pits.

“Well, let’s just hope I won’t be a victim of freezing this year.” Willow shivered, and not from the cold. 

“Oh, Willow, you’ll be alright. We’ll take care of you.” The scientist gave his sister a reassuring pat on the back. “Besides, I’m sure those ten years you spent in roaming around England must’ve taught you a thing or two about winter.”

“Well, you’re right about that.” The woman nodded. “Man. I’ve had a few close calls with death myself, actually, thanks to this time of year.”

“Is that so. Guess that means you’ve got sort of a taste for what it’s like, then.” Wilson began to rummage through the ice boxes like what had just been said was the most normal thing in the world. Willow hummed an affirmative in response. 

“So, during winter, what do we plan to do?” She asked, kneeling down next to him and going through the food stash with him.

“To be honest, I’m not sure.” Wilson sighed. “There’s not much we can do besides harvesting meat from traps and such, since none of the farms replenish themselves for the...I’d say three weeks to a month that winter usually lasts.”

“Huh. That’s short.” She remarked. “So you just sit around for that time? Booo-ring.”

“Yeah. Not the best of times, I know.” Wilson sighed. “Time’s pretty fucked here, sis. I’d get used to it.” He thought for a moment. “There’s these wild hounds that usually attack the base once per winter, near the end. They’re annoying, but it’s not like we can’t handle them.”

“Hounds?” Willow raised an eyebrow. “Like wolves?”

“No, not like wolves.” Her brother shook his head. “These dogs are big. I’d say they’d come up to your hip handing on all fours. Pitch black fur most of the time, though I have seen white and red species, and you can’t mistake their barks for anything.” He  huffed. “Maxwell once told me that these variations were created when he added a surplus of red and blue gems to a bunch of hounds. Real smart move on his part.” He rolled his eyes sarcastically. “Red ones deal attacks with fire, blue ones deal them with ice. Believe me, they’re annoying and require lots of effort to take down. Big time.”

Willow whistled. “Jesus. That sounds like a mess. How do you handle them?”

“Tooth traps. We’ve got a menagerie of them set up just north of here, to the left of the bees. That takes them out pretty quickly.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Yeah. Still, it’s a bit of a pain to get everyone to get up and get over there, especially if they’re warming up. We’ve got another fire pit set there, though, so unless someone forgets to bring fuel then freezing isn’t a problem.”

Willow chuckled. “You all must be quite experienced in this world.” Her face fell a bit, and she became for solemn. “I guess that’s what ten years of being here will do to you.” She bit her lip and Wilson cupped her cheek. 

“Hey, don’t look so sad.” He said, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t help it.” She sighed bitterly, her grey eyes shifting to the side. “When I think of how long you’ve been here, I wonder just how much you’ve suffered, and…” She sighed, her voice catching in her throat. “It hurts me to think about what happened while I was blindly wandering around for you.”

“Willow…” Wilson paused, her words sinking in. “Hey. Sure, things have gotten bad for me, but in the long run, I really can’t say I’ve suffered.” He thought back to his first days in this realm, looking upon the scenery and breathing in the cleanest air he’d ever been exposed to with awe and amazement. He remembered feeling astounded at the simplicity and yet the diversity of all the life living there, the time a catcoon nuzzled against his leg while he was gathering wood in one world, the way his heart pounded against his ribcage and the pride he felt the first time he successfully managed to ward off a group of hounds. “I mean it. Despite the dangers, this place is nicer than London will ever be.”

“Is that so?” Willow leaned her head against Wilson’s shoulder, and he nodded. 

“Think about it. There’s no street rats to bully us, the environment is in stellar condition from what I’ve seen, and everyone who is living here is friendly and sociable at best. Don’t worry.” He kissed her on the forehead. “I’ve been mostly alright in the time we’ve been apart.” He decided right then and there that he could never tell her about the suffering he had been subjected to in this world; it would break her heart to know the truth. 

Willow smiled. “Well, if you say so.” She looked up from her brother’s shoulder. “Oh! Look who’s awake. Good morning, Wendy!” The siblings rose to their feet and the blonde child clutched her thermal stone tightly with a yawn.

“Good morning.” Wendy’s voice was monotonous and quiet. She sat down next to the fire and set her stone by it. She mumbled something under her breath as she sat down in front of the conflagration. 

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Willow asked as her brother started loading one of the crockpots with food.

“Oh...you heard me?” Wendy looked up at Willow, surprised. 

“I did.” Willow nodded. “If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine. I’m just...curious.” Clearly in her time of being here she hadn’t figured out Wendy’s general nature, Wilson thought.

He wanted to stop her and tell her about how Wendy was very sensitive and withdrawn, and how she should probably just leave her be, but Wendy took him by surprise with what she said next.

“Well…” The girl fidgeted with her fingers. “I was wondering if you and Mr. Higgsbury needed any help with making breakfast.”

“Oh! You want to help us out?” Willow looked over at Wilson, a bit surprised as well.

Wendy nodded shyly. 

“Well, of course you can.” Willow smiled warmly. “Just heat that stone up a bit and come over when you will. Many hands make light work. Your help would be appreciated.” She ruffled Wendy’s hair lightly, and the child smiled too. 

“I...gee. Thanks, Aunt Willow.” She mumbled. Willow looked over to her brother and gave him a thumbs-up. 

“You know…” Wendy said as she wandered over to the crockpots with the younger Higgsbury. “You two sort of remind me of how I was with Abigail.”

“Abigail?” Willow asked, looking over to Wilson. 

“Her twin sister.”  Wilson replied, firing up one of the pots. 

Wendy nodded. “She’s dead now, but we were close the way you two are.” 

“Oh, I see.” Willow nodded and opened one of the ice boxes. 

“She’s been dead for a few years now. I came here shortly afterwards...I’d rather not talk about it.” Wendy mumbled the last part.

“That’s alright.” Willow reassured her quietly, patting her on the back. “Hey, while we’re here, why don’t you help me make some jam for everyone else? Just get some berries from the icebox, there’s a good girl.” Willow smiled in approval as Wendy grabbed a few handfuls of berries and added them to the crockpots. 

“I think everyone else should be waking up soon.” Wilson said, looking over to the tents. He could already see Webber stumbling out of his tent.

“Oh! Good morning, Mr. Higgsbury and Aunt Willow and Wendy!” He ran over and hugged Wendy, then Willow, and finally Wilson.

“Well, good morning to you too.” Wilson ruffled the half-spider’s hair affectionately. “Why don’t you help us make breakfast, too?”

Webber smiled and nodded eagerly, and Wilson couldn’t help but feel almost like they were a complete family in that moment. He wondered what he had done to deserve such a thing.

~~

Now, at first, this morning seemed perfectly normal for everybody. They sat down and ate as they came. The Higgsburies and the children gathered what was left from the farms. Maxwell smoked and studied the Codex Umbra between glances up at the siblings and their work, Wolfgang entertained Wes and Woodie with stories about Russia. All was going fairly well for the start of the winter.

That is, it was going well until Wigfrid ran screaming back into the camp.

“Dear god! Everyone, run!” She stopped for a few seconds, panting heavily. 

“Wigfrid? What’s wrong?” Woodie asked slowly, concerned as everyone else was. 

The redhead held up a finger as she struggled to catch her breath and then held her hand to her ear. A few seconds later, the sound of barking could be heard. It had to be the hounds, Wilson knew that much, and from the volume of it, they were coming close fast.

“Why couldn’t you just take them on yourself? You’re better equipped than any of us.” The scientist grabbed a few of the thermal stones that had been soaking up heat by the fire off the ground, becoming slowly more and more worried. Why  _ hadn’t _ Wigfrid fought them off? It wasn’t like she couldn’t do it. Maybe they’d have to make a run for it after all. 

“There were too many. We have to get to the traps.” Wigfrid shook her head. “Come on, everybody. You know the drill. Wes, grab healing supplies in case we need it. Woodie, fuel. Now. Everyone else, grab some of whatever and get running. We may have to hide out somewhere else; there’s a lot and it could just be too many for the traps to take on. We may have to split up, but I doubt that much.” She looked behind her as the barking drew closer. “Go now! Hurry!”

Immediately, everyone ran to the chests to grab what they could. They already had warm clothing, so they just grabbed fuel and other resources. Willow and Wolfgang grabbed packs and stocked up on food. Wilson grabbed a few tools and some torches in case he had to light anything up. Then again, Willow had her lighter for that, but it was always nice to have anything extra on hand, as he’d learned.

“Oh,  _ shit _ !” Wigfrid cried, clutching her spear. “They’re here! Move it, MOVE IT!” In the distance, Wilson could see a massive pack of shadowy figures running right towards them and knew they didn’t have much time. Quickly, he grabbed Willow’s hand and led the group to the tooth traps. 

“This way!” His bag bounced against his back and his feet hit the ground so hard it stung as he and the others desperately tried to outrun the dogs. They ran to an area with stone walls surrounding a square area of land, a long and narrow entryway that twisted and turned, and tooth traps littering the ground for a good three meters in. Everyone ran through the entryway, some occasionally colliding with the walls, until they came to a small space surrounded by the walls with a campfire and a few chests in the middle. 

“Woodie, start up the fire. I’ll keep a lookout for those dogs, see how long it takes to kill them.” Wigfrid said, standing on one of the chests to look over the walls surrounding them. Wilson managed to hop up next to her for a second, and his jaw dropped at the amount of hounds that had been following them. 

“Good god, there must be at least twenty-five of those!” He marvelled, both amazed and terrified. He counted, and there were twenty-six. Close enough. Lately, everyone had noticed that when the hounds did attack, they were more aggressive than before and came in higher numbers, but the most they’d ever taken on at once was ten. They’d come just as the end of summer came around and everyone was forced to wait them out for what felt like hours in these stone walls. That’s what led to Wilson and Wolfgang  taking it upon themselves to reinforce the place; they knew it was only getting worse from here. Never in a million years, though, would they have guessed that it would have gotten this bad this quickly. On top of that, Wilson noticed, not all of them were jet black. There were some red hounds and blue hounds thrown in there, too.

“Yeah.” Wigfrid shook her head. “Christ. Fire hounds in winter? Never seen it before.”

“None of us have.” Wilson hopped down from the chest. 

“What’s the situation?” Willow asked him, holding a frightened Webber close to her. “There, there, child, everything’s going to be alright.” She turned her head to the quivering child and said before turning her attention back to her brother. 

“Bad.” The scientist shook his head. “This is the biggest group we’ve ever seen. Twenty-six, if I counted correctly, and it’s mixed company.” She looked confused at this statement, so he clarified. “Red, blue, and black hounds. Not good. We’ve never seen it before, so we’ve got no idea how we’re to deal with it.” 

“That sounds terrible.” Willow’s eyes widened in fear. 

“Not to worry, though, dear sister. These traps are mostly fireproof, and if nothing goes wrong then we’ll be in and out of here soon.”

“Might wanna bite your tongue, because something did go wrong. _ Very _ wrong.” Wigfrid’s eyes widened with terror and she looked back at the group. “Those hounds aren’t taking any damage from the traps.”

“What?!” Everyone shouted and exchanged looks of panic.

“Impossible.” Maxwell mumbled. Wigfrid shook her head. 

“Yeah, apparently not.” She groaned, holding her weapon close to her. “What joy.”

“What do we do?” Webber asked, clutching onto Wendy’s hand. 

“If they won’t take damage from the traps, we can’t fight them off.” Wilson re-adjusted the backpack on his shoulders. “We have to make a run for it.”

“But where to?!” Tensions grew stronger as the sounds of barking grew louder. 

“There’s a cave system below us. We’ll wait them out there.” Wilson stood up on one of the chests, ready to vault himself over.

“What?! That’s crazy, the nearest entrance will take forever to get to!” Woodie objected.

“Do you have a better idea?” Willow snapped, joining her brother on the chest. 

“Well...no.” The lumberjack admitted. A dog barked, and everyone turned to see a fire hound standing right behind them. As Wigfrid had said, it appeared to take no damage from the tooth trap it was standing directly on top of.

“Ohhhh my god.” Wilson grabbed onto the top of the stone wall, preparing to pull himself over. “RUN!” 

Thinking fast, Wigfrid switched out her spear for a tentacle spike and whacked the hound across the face as hard as she could. The dog was flung into the side of the wall and snarled, shaking its head to try and alleviate some of the damage it had taken. 

“I’ll try and hold them off!” The redhead shouted as everyone ran helter-skelter for the walls, trying desperately to fit onto the chests and lift themselves over. Willow and Wes saw the children having difficulty getting over, and climbed onto the wall before turning around and pulling Webber and Wendy up with them. 

“I think it’s just north of here!” Wilson looked around quickly as the hounds’ barking drew ever closer. It was only a matter of time before they’d find out they weren’t in there. 

“Winnie! Come on!” Willow shouted as she helped Wendy to her feet after the two jumped off the wall together. A moment later, the redhead bounded over the wall, an ice hound following her. She turned around and gave the dog a good, hard smack with the tentacle spike and motioned for everyone to get going. 

They needn’t be told twice. Despite the bitter cold and the wind stinging their faces, they ran farther away from the base, legs burning. Wilson bit hit lip and tried to remember where the nearest hole leading to the underground caves were. 

‘A bit to the east of here and past a forest of pine trees.’ That sounded about right. When they got there, they’d all clamber down into the caves if the hounds persisted and stay in all day. While the group never made it a priority to head underground often, the few times they had been there resulted in them building a fire pit and some crafting areas not too far from the entrance. They’d also found some berry bushes and trees somehow managing to grow down there, and they would use those for materials and food if they ran out. He doubted they’d be down there for very long, though, so it likely would not be needed for them to gather additional supplies. 

The scientist looked behind him and saw that Wes and a few of the others were becoming weakened by lack of stamina. Wendy in particular seemed to be suffering. A mere ten meters behind them, the hounds continued to tail them. 

“Jesus!” He groaned. “Will they ever give it up!” 

He happened to refocus on the group just in time to see Wendy trip over a rock and fall on her face with a scream. 

“Oh my god!” Wilson froze dead in his tracks and was nearly trampled by his sister and Maxwell. Thinking fast, he dove for her, and despite the exhaustion that was rapidly setting in he managed to pick her up and dash off again with her over his shoulder. 

“Ow…” Wendy mumbled into Wilson’s neck, too spent to say much of anything else. 

“It’s alright, kiddo. We’ll get to safety in a moment.” He promised softly, one arm on her back and one under her thighs to support her. Her left knee was bleeding badly, and blood trickled down her leg into the dirty white fabric of her sock. 

“I hope so.” Her thick, blonde curls were tangled and matted, bouncing in messy bunches against her back as Wilson carried her. Luckily, the forest through which they had to travel next was just up ahead, and they made it through that without much of a problem. 

“Alright, we’re here.” They stopped for a moment at the mouth of the cave, which was a large hole about five feet in diameter with a rope dangling from a tree down into the darkness below. The hounds had been lost a while back, but the barking continued to persist, and they couldn’t take any chances. Wigfrid held her arms up behind her head and was breathing deeply, trying to increase the amount of oxygen entering her lungs. “Who’s first?” She wheezed.

“I’ll go.” Willow volunteered. Everyone else was too tired to object. “I’ll give you the all-clear if it’s safe.” Wigfrid handed her the rope, not so subtly brushing the other’s knuckles with her fingertips in the process, and Willow descended down into the caves without much of a problem. There was a silence, and then her voice echoed up “All clear. Come on down!” 

“Frailest go down first. That way, if those  _ things _ catch up then the stronger and more able ones can fend them off.” Wigfrid shot a glance at Wes. “No offense.”

Wes shrugged. None taken. 

“So, who’s going next?” Wigfrid looked around.

“Wendy’s got a hurt knee. Send her down, then Webber, then Wes and then Maxwell.” Wilson panted, letting the child in his arms down. The blood on her leg had clotted, but the marks were still nasty as ever, and the trail of dried blood didn’t aid the effect. Woodie whistled, just about summing up how everyone else felt about the nasty gash on her leg. 

“We’ll treat it when you get down there, okay, sweetie?” Wigfrid cooed as she handed the child the rope. “There you go. Legs around the rope, like that. Willow! You’ve got a kid comin’ down, you better catch her!” 

She let the rope go and Wendy slid down about as gracefully as one could with a hurt knee. So it went with everybody else, with Wigfrid herself being the last to come down. The caves were dark and ominous, but lightbulb plants lit up the place every now and then, and the silence was actually fairly nice. Wilson smiled to himself knowing those dogs would never follow them down there, and that they were prepared to wait them out if needed. 

“So what’s everybody got on them?” Of course the first thing Wigfrid would do was take charge. Normally, that was Wilson’s job and she knew it, but the scientist figured she just wanted to show off to Willow. He wasn’t about to stop her.

Everyone who brought a pack with them opened it. Willow had brought a surplus of food; likely enough to last them a night and then some if needed. Woodie and Wolfgang had brought wood boards, grass, and sticks. Wes brought varied healing supplies, as one would have expected from him. Wilson had brought the tools, and Wigfrid had brought the weaponry. Maxwell had brought a small mix of what everyone else had, as well as two miner helmets.

“Why would you bring these?” Wigfrid asked, turning one over in her hand. “We didn’t realize we’d come down here until the last minute.” She eyed him suspiciously.

“The hounds have gotten more aggressive. I feared we may have to wait them out until night fell, and in a way, I guess I was right.” He smirked with the last sentence and Wigfrid looked a bit irked with him. Wilson couldn’t help but feel a pang of admiration for his thinking ahead, even if it was a bit fishy and oddly specific way of thinking ahead.

“Let’s rest up here a bit.” Willow insisted, grabbing some medicine from Wes’ pile. “Wendy’s got a leg that needs mending, and it’s not safe for us to split up down here in this condition.”

Wilson ran his fingers across the bandages that covered his own arm, but it didn’t register in his head that he might need to change them. Wes propped Wendy’s back up against a rock and skillfully disinfected and bandaged her knee. If it hurt her any, she didn’t show it. Webber clung to Willow’s side, trembling with all sorts of emotions at once. 

“Hey, it’s alright.” She whispered to him soothingly. “They can’t get us now. We’re safe. There, there. No reason to be afraid.” 

Wilson smiled fondly at how motherly his sister was in that moment. The children would certainly grow up to become good people with a figure like her in their life, and again the pang of pride that came from being related to her made him sigh contentedly. His legs no longer hurt, and down here was cold but strangely not as cold as outside was, so he felt at ease. Maybe, he thought, we could wait out the entire winter down here.

“So.” Woodie leaned back against the wall of the cavern. “What’s the plan? Where to?” He fidgeted with Lucy in his hands. 

“I say we head in a bit deeper, to where the fire pits are.” Wigfrid insisted, spinning the tentacle spike with her wrist. 

Wolfgang shuddered. “What wrong with here?”

“We risk freezing if we stay here too long.” Maxwell looked up at the mouth of the cave that was just five feet to the right and a good twenty feet above where they all collectively stood. “We need those pits to stay warm.”

“A good point.” Willow flipped out her lighter. “And I could really use a nice fire right now to calm my nerves. I’ll admit, I’ve never been a fan of the dark.”

“Truly, none of us are.” Wilson sighed. “So how long will it take to get there?”

“Not too long. Who’s got the stuff to make torches again?” Woodie handed Wigfrid some grass and twigs, and she fashioned them into two torches. “Alright. Willow, light them up and you can carry one. That lighter of yours, while pretty, doesn’t give us enough light to see five feet in front of us.” 

“Yeah, I know.” Willow carefully lit the torches and took one. “Who’s gonna take the other?”

“Let Maxwell do it.” Wilson said. “He’s like a walking lamp-post with one of those.” He teased, earning a laugh from the others, Maxwell included. He looked over to Wendy “How’s your leg?” 

She tried to stand up and gasped with pain. “Hurts, but I think I’ll be fine.” 

“You sure you don’t need any help walking?” Wilson cocked an eyebrow. She didn’t look so steady yet. “It’s not that far, I can carry you again if you want.”

Wendy blushed, embarrassed. “Well...okay. Sure.”    
Wilson picked her up again, and she buried her face in his shirt. “Thanks.” She mumbled.

“No problem, kiddo.” He replied, equally as quiet. 

“Aunt Willow…” Webber tugged at the cuff of the female Higgsbury’s shirt. “Can you carry me, too?”

Willow considered this for a moment. “Well, why not. Come here, you.” She picked up Webber and held him the same way Wilson held the girl, looking over Webber’s shoulder to see what was ahead of her. “Lead the way, Maxwell.” 

Maxwell paused for a moment before motioning for the group to follow him and they set off. Wilson stayed close to the man holding the torch, with Wolfgang and the others following close behind. Willow stood by him, too. Webber and Wendy’s fingers locked together as they walked, too tired to do much else. 

“Maxwell.” Wilson asked, nudging the magician’s side gently to get his attention. “How long do you suppose it will take to get there? I haven’t been down here in ages.”

“I vaguely remember it being a few paces more from here.” Maxwell sighed. “But you’re right, it has been a while since any of us have been down here. I certainly hope we don’t run into anything nasty down here.”

“Yeah. So do I.” Wilson agreed and, carefully balancing Wendy with his good arm, held Maxwell’s spare hand with his own. The magician seemed a bit surprised at the gesture at first but gently squeezed the other man’s hand, letting him know that it was okay. Wilson smiled, feeling a bit less tense about the situation. He would have done more, leaned in closer to his side and mumbled some disgustingly sweet words to him, but there were people around and he was carrying a child, so no way in hell was he going to do that.

Five minutes passed, and then ten. At the five minute mark they had to switch out torches, and the second time they had to do so Wolfgang nervously asked if Maxwell was sure they were going in the right direction.

“I don’t know, honestly. Wigfrid, were we?” 

“What a great time to ask.” The redhead rolled her eyes. “If memory serves, then yeah. We were. Maybe we just came in at the wrong angle and missed the camp.”

“God, I hope not! How will we get back if we did?” Willow asked.

“We’ve been going in a straight line the whole time, right? All we’ve gotta do is go back the opposite way. No worries.” Her brother shrugged. “I think we should just stay here a bit longer before we head back to check for those overgrown dogs.” 

Everyone mulled over this for a moment before nodding in agreement.

“Yeah. Besides, how long could it have possibly been since we came down?” Woodie asked.

“Years.” Willow joked, earning an uneasy laugh from everyone else. 

“Yeah, right. Hey, Maxwell, hand me the torch, will you?” Wilson looked up to see the magician focused on something in front of them. “I’m gonna try to--Maxwell?”

“Am I the only one who sees that?” The taller man pointed a thumb to something in the shadows. Wilson strained his eyes to see it, but when they focused, he saw something towering over all of them in the distance. He might not have seen it if not for Maxwell pointing it out. 

“The hell is that thing?” Wigfrid stepped closer, trying to get a better view. 

“Do you think it’s alive…?” Woodie asked cautiously, holding tightly to Wes with one hand and Lucy with the other. 

“Doubt it.” Maxwell advanced forward a few paces and the torch’s light revealed that whatever it was was made of metal and wood. It was tall and dark, with gears protruding from the sides in a way that made it look built by an amateur inventor. Despite how dark the caves were, clusters of red roses appeared to be thriving at the base of the machine, the vines snaking up the sides and the red flowers blooming all over. It appeared to be a kind of machine, but for what? A feeling of dread crept through Wilson’s body. Something about this rickety structure was oddly familiar, and quickly remembered why. It looked almost exactly like the portal he’d used to bring himself here.

“What do you think it is?” Woodie moved in closer to have a better look at a machine.

“It looks like a portal.” Wilson said, a bit unsteadily. “Wendy, I’m going to have to put you down.”

Wendy “aww”ed softly, but didn’t object any further as the scientist put her down. 

“A portal? Hah! You’re crazy.” Wigfrid scoffed.

“Actually, he’s right, Winnie.” Willow softly placed a hand on Wilson’s arm, letting Webber down as well. “It looks oddly like the one I found that brought me here. Besides, do you have a better notion of what this might be?” 

Wigfrid huffed and considered this for a moment. “Well...I guess you’re right. But if that’s the case, what should we do with it?”

“Don’t touch it.” Maxwell commanded. “Don’t touch it, don’t go anywhere near it, don’t so much as try to activate it. We have no idea where it’s going to take us, or who or what is on the other side, and if we go in there’s no guarantee we’ll come out alive.” 

“He’s got a point.” Wilson eyed the roses growing around the base of the portal. The only way he could think of that flowers could grow down here would be from Charlie, and he was not about to mess with anything that had to do with her. Not after what had happened last night. “I say we just turn back and try to find our way out of here.”

“So do I.” Willow bit her lip. “I almost want to say that it was a bad idea to find this thing in the first place.”

Everyone else nodded in agreement.

“Then let’s get on it.” Wilson handed Maxwell the torch back, trying to brush his hand as subtly as possible but failing. “Wendy, are you good to walk on your own?”

The girl moved her knee back and forth. “It hurts, of course, but I think I’ll be fine.” 

Wilson nodded. “Well, that’s good. Anyone have any idea how long we’ve been walking?” 

“I’d say we’ve been wandering about for anywhere between fifteen and twenty minutes, judging by the amount of torches we’ve gone through plus how long we’ve just stood around talking.” Woodie said, checking the supply of materials in his bag. 

“Yeah, uh...about that.” Wendy piped up. “Why didn’t we suspect something was up after we went through our first few torches? Like, I don’t think it was that far away, and I’m sure the rest of you remember that base the same way.”   
“I think it was just a collective case of ‘this seems a bit fishy but I’m probably wrong about that so I’m going to keep my mouth shut’-itis.” Webber offered. 

“Probably.” Wilson chuckled bitterly. ‘We adults can really be stupid at times, can’t we?’

“We should probably make it our next task to just turn back and find the camp then, shouldn’t--” Willow was cut off by a strange noise some distance away. It echoed across the walls of the cave, and it took a few seconds for everyone to process that it happened. 

“What was that?” Wilson instinctively grabbed Willow’s hand. They heard it again, louder this time. It was the distinct sound of hounds barking.

“No way.” Wigfrid groaned. “No actual fucking way. How did they get down here?” 

“No idea.” Willow grabbed her brother’s hand. “Great. We’re basically cornered and we’ve got two children with us, one of them badly hurt. What do you all suggest we do?” 

“We run.” Woodie answered, pulled Wes close to him and clutching tightly to his axe. 

“But to where?” Webber clung to Willow, arms around her hip. 

Wilson’s eyes flicked over to the portal behind them. Maxwell caught him doing so.

:Oh, no. Oh no, no, no. We are  _ not _ going through there, Higgsbury.” 

“Do we have a choice?” He placed his other hand on Wendy’s shoulder and defiantly looked up at the man standing next to him. “Think about it. There aren’t enough weapons to go around, certainly not enough armour to go around, and if we die and leave the children to fend for themselves, then they’re fucked, to put it lightly. Besides that, unless there’s a new breed of underground hound that we’ve yet to discover, then something tells me those beasts found a way down here without cracking their skulls open. If that’s the case, then our weapons and such will be completely useless against them since apparently not even the tooth traps can hurt them! Seeing as we’ve quite literally driven ourselves into a wall here, I suggest you comply with this idea unless you or anyone else for that matter can come up with a better idea.” He looked around at each and every other person standing there, too. “Well? Anyone care to derive a way for us to un-fuck ourselves right now?”

Everyone slowly exchanged glances and shook their heads. 

“Then it’s through the portal for us.” Wilson took a deep breath and removed his hands from Willow’s grasp and Wendy’s shoulder. “Maxwell. Torch.” He held out his hand and the magician placed the torch in it, a bit shakily. The tone in Wilson’s voice was firm and serious, which made him a tad bit frightening to even the mighty Wolfgang. 

“I think here’s the lever to activate this thing.” Wilson pointed to a protrusion in the side of the portal as the sounds of barking grew steadily louder. He handed the torch back to Maxwell. “Quickly, Willow, throw the switch! They’ll be here any minute!” 

Willow nodded without hesitation and flipped the lever downwards, causing the gears on the machine to turn and whir. A group of black shadow hands crept up from the ground, grabbing one person each around the waist. Willow and a few others screamed with fear at the unexpected appendages and Wilson held his breath, closing his eyes as he felt the hands pulling him downwards. For a moment he heard the sound of a final hound barking, and then there was nothing.


	10. Chapter 10- Charlie, Charlie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilson's bonds are put to the test. Charlie, you truly are a bitch.

The world seemed to spin for a split second before Wilson sat up. His vision was blurry for a moment but quickly adjusted. Everything around him was dark, darker than the cave they were in just moments before. He surveyed the space around him. Just meters in front of him, he could make out the silhouettes of two dark columns that were likely around one and a half meters tall. To the sides, there wasn’t anything he could see besides a darkness so thick you could cut it with a knife. He saw that the others were all sitting up, rubbing their heads and looking around, just as confused and dazed as he was. Wilson groaned as he pulled himself to his feet. 

“Is everyone here?” He asked as the others slowly came to. 

“I think so.” Willow flipped out her lighter but quickly put it away when she saw it had no effect on the looming darkness around them. 

“Where are we?” Wigfrid looked around, amazed. Wendy and Webber locked hands for comfort, a bit unsure of their new surroundings. Wes trembled, and Wolfgang attempted to soothe him despite his own fear of the dark. Woodie clutched his axe defensively.

Wilson bit his lip. Now that he thought about it, he recognized this place. A look over at Maxwell showed that he recognized it as well, and the look in his eyes made it clear that they shared a mutual feeling of dread.

“Charlie.” The magician mouthed over at him. Wilson nodded. 

“It has to be.” He moved a little closer, hoping that no one else would hear. “God. Something tells me we just messed up really badly.” 

His comment was immediately followed by the sound of a woman laughing loudly, and his heart leapt into his throat. That voice was certainly much more chilling in person. 

“Wonderful show, all of you!” Atop the columns, flames suddenly burst forth systematically. It started from the first two, and conflagrations quickly appeared on row after row behind them. Standing between the very last two was a woman in a long black dress, arms outstretched. Her cropped black hair hung around her face in a way that was almost beautiful, and she wore a black hat that had a red feather in it. 

“Charlie.” Wilson swallowed. So this is what she looked like. Admittedly, she was shorter than he’d remembered; she was probably somewhere between Wickerbottom and Maxwell’s heights. Her face also looked different than what was expected as well. Her lips were thin and red, drawn into a sly smile against her pale, pale face. Her eyes were a startling robin’s egg blue and her lids were powdered with what appeared to be a dark purple powder. Her eyebrows were thin and raised slightly as she sneered at the dazed group standing meters in front of her. She looked surprisingly young, as if the shadows and her time on the Throne hadn’t affected her physically the way it had Maxwell.

“Who are you?” Wigfrid slowly raised her spear, a bit unsure of how to feel about the woman. Wilson remembered that the others hadn’t a notion of who Charlie was just yet, and knew they were in for a terrible surprise. 

“Aww, Maxie, you’ve told them who I was but not the others?” She crossed her arms over her chest, glancing at the Higgsbury siblings coldly and then back to him. “I’m offended.”

Wilson noticed she was imitating Willow’s reaction to similar news upon her arrival. ‘Jerk.’

“I...uh…” Maxwell faltered over his words.

“Maxwell. Just who exactly is this, and how do you know her?” Wigfrid turned the point of her spear at him, her tone slowly switching from suspicious to both suspicious and mad.

“Wigfrid. Calm down.” Woodie prompted, placing a hand on the redhead’s shoulder, but she quickly slapped it away. 

“No, I want an answer. You kept this from us on purpose, didn’t you?” She took a few steps closer to Maxwell, spear out. “Didn’t you!”

“Yes, he did.” Charlie sneered. “You certainly turn on other people easily, don’t you, Wigfrid Jonsdottir?”

Wigfrid stopped dead in her tracks and turned to look at Charlie, amazed and terrified. “How did you know my full name? I’ve never told it to anyone here.”

Charlie laughed. “I know all of your names, and everything about you!” She said, delighted with the horrified reactions that came from everybody that didn’t previously know of her existence. “Allow me to introduce myself, dearies. I’m Charlie, more or less your queen. I’ve been reigning over this land for longer than most of you have been here, and as such have been lucky enough to witness what you all have been doing in your time here.” She giggled. “You’re an interesting group, I’ll give you that much.”

“Excuse me!” Wigfrid suddenly flushed red. “Exactly how much do you know about me, or any of us for that matter?”

“As I said, everything,” Charlie smirked and dared to take a few steps closer. “Even the most personal of things. Nothing is safe from me, so long as it’s in your mind.” 

“But how?” Wigfrid began to tremble, and Willow put an arm on her shoulder comfortingly. 

“Well, it’s a bit hard to explain.” Charlie tapped her chin with a finger in thought. “How do I put this...I get my power from the darkness, like what surrounds you at night. Have you ever wandered around at night without a torch and felt something strike you?” Mostly everyone in the group nodded. “That was me!” The woman giggled. “I must say, being the highest power of this land is certainly a rewarding experience, even if it’s an exhausting one.” 

“So you’re...like a god.” Wendy’s eyes widened and she exchanged an uneasy glance with Webber. 

“Exactly, dear child.” Charlie crooned and looked back over to Wigfrid. “Among my powers are reading minds and controlling shadows at will. That’s how I know that your two biggest insecurities are how people perceive you and your breasts. With a size 32C, well, who can blame you?”

Wigfrid looked horrified. Her face went from bright red to sheet white in an instant. Willow wrapped an arm around her comfortingly. 

‘Oh, you bitch.’ Wilson thought, furious with this woman for what she’d just said. If there’s anything he’d learned from growing up with Willow, it was this; never, ever comment on a person’s biggest insecurities. It’s either going to cripple their confidence for life, cause them to get so mad they kick your arse to the moon and back, or both.

“Good god, Charlie, what’s come over you?” Maxwell seemed equally horrified. “You’re not at all like I remember you!”

“Neither are you.” Charlie pursed her lips, her cruel smile fading.

“Speaking of which, how do you two know each other?” Woodie prompted, trying to change the subject away from Charlie’s condescending nature.

“Why don’t you tell them, Maxie.” Charlie crossed her arms. “Since you seemed to have no problem telling them.” Her eyes flicked over to the Higgsbury siblings again and then back to Maxwell. The man sighed. 

“Charlie and I came here together, after an accident.” He pursed his lips. It was obvious that recounting this story pained him. “She was my assistant in a magic show. Afterward, I was seated on the shadow throne, and she became the darkness. After Wilson freed me, he was bound to the throne until Charlie came and let him go. I’m assuming that you’ve been the one pulling the reigns to this place since then, haven’t you?” He questioned the woman. She nodded.

“You’re so smart.” She giggled. “Glad to see that much hasn’t changed.”

“So why didn’t you tell any of us this before?” Webber asked. 

“It...hurts to bring it back up.” The magician admitted truthfully. “I’m sorry. That, and I had my doubts about how our safety would be affected if I told.” 

“Speaking of which.” Wigfrid seemed to have recovered some from her bout of horror. “Safety….Your name’s Charlie, right?” 

The queen nodded.

Wigfrid’s eyes widened. “Oh my god. So it was you who killed Wickerbottom. Not Maxwell.” 

Charlie nodded with a malicious grin. The words hit everyone in the face like bricks. Even Wilson and Willow were affected. The male Higgsbury figured it was because of an underlying belief that Maxwell had just fabricated the story. 

“Well, Wigfrid. Took you long enough to piece that together. You seem to be very much like your oh-so-wonderful girlfriend and her brother. At least, up here you are.” She tapped the side of her forehead with a finger. “But can you figure out why? There’s a motive to every single move a person makes, you know. Every single one.”

That stumped them. What reason did Charlie have for killing Wickerbottom? Every theory that any of them had brainstormed regarding motives flew out the window now that they knew for a fact that someone they knew nothing about was responsible. 

Maxwell sighed, just about summing up what everyone else felt about this. “Charlie, come on. This is unnecessary. Just tell us what you've been doing this whole time. Even I'm stumped on this. It's like I don't even know you.” The emotion in his voice was enough to bring Wilson to tears, and he turned his head away to make sure he didn't see them. 

“Very well, then.” Charlie said. “I suppose I could tell you. Why don't we go somewhere a bit more comfortable.” She said it as more of a command rather than an invitation, and everyone was far too scared of her to object. She'd murdered one of them, after all, and in such a clean and precise way that they could have never guessed it was her. Well, maybe they had an idea of it, but that wasn't the point. The point was that this woman was intimidating to them all, and no one dared to disobey her out of fear of losing their own lives as well. Charlie led them away from the place where they'd woken up, passing column after column that lit up as soon as they passed and put themselves out as soon as they moved on. Wilson remembered feeling fascinated upon seeing them for the first time, but it had been long since then. He was sure this was how Willow felt about the pillars, too, underneath all the stress and fear she appeared to be going under. After a little bit of walking, they appeared before a tall staircase that was pitch black. It led up to a raised platform, and atop it was none other than the Nightmare Throne itself. Potted plants were scattered here and there, containing roses and ferns that Wilson recognized from his dream a few nights earlier. It was both quaint and chilling. The scientist glanced over at Maxwell and saw him tense up severely at the sight, so he quickly reached over and squeezed his hand before letting go. That seemed to ease both of their nerves a bit, but not by much. 

“Well. Here we are.” Charlie’s heels clicked against the stairs as she climbed up to sit on the throne. “Oh, did you all expect to have a place to sit, too? Apologies, but I forgot to mention that this is the only chair here, and I'm sure none of you would like to spend even a second on it.” She gestured to the chair and laughed darkly. “Especially Maxwell and Wilson. I believe it's safe to say that you two would hate this thing the most.” 

She wasn't wrong about that, Wilson thought. Despite his lack of ability to remember just what had happened during his time on that throne, so much as the thought of it brought forth a feeling of despise that lingered in his subconscious that was so profound that he would never have guessed himself able to feel such a deeply vile feeling. Somehow, however, he did. 

“Now…” Charlie tapped her fingers against the arm of the chair, and it echoed in the dark room. Wilson wondered if there were any walls to this place, or if there was just an endless span of nothing. And even if there were to be walls, what would lie beyond them? “I've noticed that you all have been rather tense and up in arms about the recent murder, whether you've shown it or not.” 

Everyone nodded slowly, not sure what else to do. Webber clung to Willow again, and Wendy to Wilson. The Higgsburies allowed them to. 

“I'll admit, I'm rather proud of that feat. Wigfrid was right in that a shadow clone was used for the job. She was just wrong about whose clone it was.” She chuckled darkly. She must have a habit of laughing maniacally. Wilson figured that's what happened to people stuck in dark chasms all day doing god knows what. “But I know you're not interested in how. You're interested in why.” When no one said anything, she raised an eyebrow. “Right?”

“Right…” Came the slow, unsteady reply. 

“Well,” Charlie took a deep breath. “It's because this has all been one big experiment.” 

Experiment? Wilson’s ears perked up at that. “Of what sorts?” He asked, immediately receiving a shocked glance of “why would you say that?!” from Willow. 

Charlie smiled. “Quite the curious one, or so I've observed. Funny you should ask, Wilson, considering this whole thing has been about you.” 

The scientist’s stomach dropped into his feet so quickly he thought he'd had an aneurysm just then. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Don't you get it? This whole thing, this bringing back someone, this murder--it's all been about you.” She sneered. “You know, at first I was opposed to the idea of Maxwell ever bringing other people to this realm. Back then, however...well, I was just no fun at all, wasn't I? When Maxwell brought you here, I immediately noticed three distinct things about you.” She held up a finger and began to list them off. “One. You're extremely emotional, and your feelings tend to dictate your actions. Occasionally, if your sanity is low enough or if conditions aren't ideal to you, then you become extremely unstable and impulsive. Despite this, however, you've managed to adapt and learn about this realm quickly. It's a very curious thing to see in someone like yourself, actually.

“Two. You're ambiverted. When you want to be alone, you’re happy, but when you need attention you need it badly. Even when you were alone, I saw that your attitude towards socializing fluctuated greatly. Some nights, you'd be content working by yourself. On others, you'd be extremely lonely. I've seen you weep over those you miss, or over missing people in general, and you had a tendency to talk to yourself a lot during this time. 

“Three. Your intellect is a lifesaver, but your curiosity is the opposite, or at least it can be at times. You're a risk-taker, extremely observant, and obsessed with finding out everything possible about the things that interest you. I recall a few times where you've literally starved to death because you wouldn't pull yourself away from your work.” Willow gasped at this and glared at her brother. 

“Wilson!” She scolded. Wilson expected a strong, hard slap across the face for his past foolishness, but it never came, fortunately. While it wasn't usually appreciated, Willow could hit hard. 

“Okay...so what does this have to do with things, and where do we come in?” Wigfrid asked. 

Charlie huffed. “Oh, Willow, how can you stand such an impatient woman? I'm getting there.” Again, Wigfrid looked horrified and ashamed, turning her face to the ground. Wilson’s contempt for Charlie only grew, and he could tell Willow was feeling the same way. “Now, Wilson. What I'm trying to say here is that I've grown to like you quite a bit. Not romantically, of course. I mean in the way that a scientist like yourself grows to love his experiments and his other works.”

A mix of emotions hit Wilson so hard that it physically hurt.  _ Experiment. Works. _ Hearing himself, the scientist, being described as the experiment was probably the single-handedly most offensive and downright terrible thing he could have heard in that moment. 

“Is that so.” Is all he was able to say. 

“Yes,” Charlie chuckled. “It is. It's why I freed you from the throne as well, but not before you did some pretty nasty stuff to Maxwell. Hah! Oh, if only you remembered! But I wiped both your memory and his clean of the experience since I didn't want it to affect how you two interacted. I figured it would be more interesting that way.” She smiled slyly in a way that was akin to the Cheshire Cat. 

“You're evil.” That was all Wilson could manage out through all his emotion. Charlie laughed. 

“I know I am, dear. As your precious Maxwell told you, the shadows change people. In my case, I became the ruler of the shadows, and how liberating it is! Oh, Maxwell, I am sorry for not believing anything that lovely book of yours had to say about this realm! It's fantastic here, really, at least if you're the one with power.” 

“Sounds familiar.” Willow mumbled. 

“After releasing you back to the wilderness with him, whom you hated so very much at the time, I decided I'd monitor you. I lost interest in Maxwell; I'd known you for too long. I'm sorry, dear, you just weren't as interesting as he was.” Charlie pointed a thumb at the trembling red-and-black clad scientist. “After a while, I noticed you lot scheming to find a way out, and I decided I'd use that as an opportunity to bring more people in. I must say, it worked out quite well, and as more people came and were forced to adapt to their new surroundings you managed to keep your rivalry with Maxwell mostly at bay and helped them around. It was quite kind, actually.” Charlie nodded. “Interesting, too. You must have been dying for some attention. Well, I knew you had a sister, but I intentionally decided not to bring her here. It was entertaining to watch your love for her slowly start to cripple you and pull you away from the group. Maxwell’s attempts at getting you to fess up were quite adorable, I must say, and you slowly falling for him was inevitable yet somehow surprising. Oh, I just had to throw in that kill, you know, so as to see what you'd do and see if the society you've worked so hard to keep in order turn on one another.” She chuckled maliciously. “Sacrificing an arm for him was such a stupid move, you know, especially considering that most of his romantic advances onto you were controlled by me and not completely genuine. That long-ass rant of reasons why he liked you? Ha! You really think he could come up with something like that? That was from me. You're welcome, Maxwell." She shot a glance at the magician, who turned a bit red. "I didn't plan to interfere any further than that, though. You're just so interesting, Wilson, even without manipulating others. It tempted me. After seeing what you were really like, I just couldn't help but decide to find out how you'd react to my little obstacles.” She stared down at him, waiting for a reaction. 

Wilson felt numb. Empty. 

‘This was all a sick little game.’ He thought, barely able to breathe. ‘This was all the doings of a woman like her...by god, it was because of me.’ Repressing tears, he looked bravely back up at the woman before him. “I see.” He tried to keep his voice from wavering, but as she'd said, his emotions dictated his actions, and it wavered here and there. “So then, what do you plan for me next? Surely this can't be the end.”

“And it isn't.” Charlie smiled. “There's one thing I've been dying to see.” She beckoned for the scientist to come forward, and he obeyed numbly. Everyone else was too stunned to move. “Now, I'm sure you've had quite the experience dealing with my commands in those lovely dreams I've given to you lately, right?” 

“You could say that.” Wilson bit his lip. 

“You may want to drop that habit, dear, or else your pretty lips will scar.” Wilson wanted to slap her for that, but he couldn't. He couldn't bring himself to do much as raise a finger. Such were the ways of emotions, he supposed. “Now, where was I? Oh yes. That's right.” Charlie's smile changed to a smirk. “Maxwell, Willow. Please step forward as well.”

Wilson’s stomach dropped again. No. No. She wouldn't dare, would she? Not here. Not now. 

Alas, she would. 

“If you had to choose which of these two people lived or died, who would it be?” Charlie was obviously delighted at the look of raw terror that crossed Wilson’s face. Willow seemed alarmed by this, but not particularly distraught. Maxwell simply appeared sad, as though he expected Wilson to choose him, and that only made it harder for him to come to a conclusion. 

“Oh, Charlie, really?” He finally asked after what felt like an eternity of being undecided. “Please, for god's sake. I can't choose between them! I can't choose between any of them!” He pointed at the people behind him. “We’ve all become close, and I can't say for certain anymore that I'd be happy if one of them died! Please, just drop the question. I can't bear to pick. Please.” He felt himself weaken and feared that he would drop to his knees. 

Charlie snorted. “You really think I'm going to let you off that easily? Boy, I will leave you here for an eternity if you choose not to comply, and by then everyone you love will be gone. Is that what you want?” Wilson shook his head rapidly, terrified by the rapid change in her demeanor. “That's what I thought. Now choose. They'll die eventually either way. You just have to pick which one gets put out of their misery first.” 

The scientist felt himself trembling and cast his eyes first to Maxwell and then to Willow. His indecisiveness grew slowly, worrying him thoroughly about what to do when suddenly Willow stepped forward. 

“Let it be me.” She said coolly. 

“What?” Everyone gasped. Charlie cocked an eyebrow. 

“Willow, don't!” Wigfrid shouted, terrified. Her brother gave her a look that said the same. 

“So you want to choose for him.” Charlie shrugged. “Well, alright. I suppose that counts, as long as Wilson agrees with your decision.” She looked over to the scientist expectantly. “Tell us, then, if you agree with this arrangement.”

Wilson didn't know what to say. Of course he didn't agree! But did he have a choice? It felt horribly selfish to choose Maxwell over her, his lifelong companion, but choosing Willow still felt like losing parts of himself, both old and new, and he didn't want that at all. 

‘I guess it's not a matter of what I want, though. It's what I think is right.’ But as Charlie had said, his emotions did play a large role in his decision-making. ‘That begs the question; what's truly the right choice in this situation?’ It was hard for him to come to a conclusion until he looked over at Willow. 

It was a gesture so subtle that he would have missed it if he'd been looking somewhere else at the time. Their eyes met for a second and Willow winked at him with her left eye, the one closest to Wilson, so that Charlie wouldn't see, and quickly covered it up as a full blink. The gesture did manage to take a lot of the stress off her brother’s shoulders, and he knew that she had something in mind and was trying to tell him to go with it, but the idea of what it could be made him slightly worried again. 

“We're waiting.” Charlie reminded, sounding a bit bored. Wilson brought forth a feigned unhappiness as a cover for his realization and sighed deeply. 

“Let her do it.” He said, trying to sound as genuine as possible. Charlie seemed to fall for it, and so did everyone else. 

“No! Please!” Wigfrid begged, falling to her knees. “Leave Willow be! I'll give myself for her, just let this beautiful woman live!”

“Or me!” Wendy volunteered. “I wouldn't mind, really. Then I'd get to be with Abigail forever.” 

Charlie chuckled. “Oh, please. You lot are adorable. This doesn't concern you, so stay out of it. This is a trial for Wilson, and once it's done, I may have the mind to let you all go back to where you came from before I brought you here. Even you, Maxie.”

“Wait…” Everybody stopped. “Are you serious?”

“Of course.” Charlie nodded. “What, did you expect me to keep you all here forever? No. I'm cruel, but not that cruel. This was just an experiment. No need to hold you captive forever. You all will get to live your lives as it were before you came after I get the results I need.” 

Wilson looked back and saw that everyone there seemed shocked. He couldn't help but wonder: what were their lives like before this? Would it be better if Charlie let them back? Would they like that life better than this? What would become of Webber, since he was made here? What of himself after the experiment was done? He pushed the questions to the back of his mind. No time for that now. Now was the time to face Charlie and one of his worst fears: losing his beautiful sister, the one who truly meant the world to him no matter what. 

“Now, Wilson, are you sure you'd let Willow give herself?” Charlie asked, almost mockingly. “You'd rather your lifelong companion die than the man you've hated deeply for years, and have only recently come to love? Is that really so? Because if it is, then I suppose you don't truly love her after all. Some wonderful big brother you are.” She sneered. 

Wilson bit the inside of his cheek. ‘You're wrong.’ He thought, disgusted with her snide attitude. ‘I do love Willow. I always have. After all the shit I've been through at your hands, the knowledge of my love is the only, ONLY thing I've been able to remain sure of. My... _ feelings _ for Maxwell are strange, yes, but these I'm sure of as well. Besides, he's changed. He's becoming a better person, and I love that as well. You, on the other hand, seem to be getting worse by the minute, you condescending, malicious bitch.’ Oh, how he wanted to spit those words at her, but he couldn't bring himself to, for he feared that speaking such harsh words would anger her to where she killed not only his beloved sister but also himself. He didn’t want to think of how the others would cope with the loss of three people over the course of a few days. He held those thoughts back and instead willed himself to simply nod.

“I’m sure.” He said grimly. 

“Well.” Charlie chirped. “That was easy.” She stood back up and reached into her coat, producing something small that glimmered in the light of the fire burning atop the columns surrounding the throne. Wilson swallowed. It was a knife. How long had that been in there?

“Now…” The queen carefully started down the stairs towards them. “Maxwell. He’s made his choice. Go back with the others. And as for you.” She looked back to Wilson as the magician slowly backed away. “I’m sure you know what to do from here.” Carefully, she held the weapon out to him, handle first. Not seeing another option, Wilson saw that his hands trembled as he took it from her.

Internally, the man was screaming. He desperately wanted this to be over so badly. Fear and despair overpowered him, and he knew that if Willow had something up her sleeve than she’d better act fast, or else she’d be dead, and all because of him. 

‘Maybe,’ He realized with horror. ‘Maybe that was her plan, to die in Maxwell’s place. Oh, Willow…’ He felt himself begin to tear up and let himself do so. No point in holding back anymore. Might as well give the cruel goddess what she wanted.

“Willow…” His voice broke as he said the name, tears welling into his eyes. “You know this isn’t something I’ve ever wanted, no matter how cross I’ve gotten with you..”

“I know, dear.” She lovingly cupped the side of his face with a hand. She was so soft and feminine that it only made her brother more emotional. It had to be a crime to destroy something as beautiful as this. “Just trust me. This is what’s right; I know it.” Carefully, she placed a hand atop the one Wilson used to grasp the handle of the knife. Oh so slightly, she probed at the space between her brother’s trembling fingers, and he got the message immediately. Willow wanted to hold the blade as well. He allowed her to do so, lacing their fingers together, and as he did so, she smiled warmly. 

“Come on, Wilson, what are you afraid of?” She asked, almost playfully. “It’ll all be over in an instant, like a vaccine.”

“I can’t do it.” He choked out in response. “I love you too much.”

“Please.” She whispered this time, barely audible. “Just trust me.” 

“Don’t look.” Maxwell urged the two children who stood only meters away, and they cast their glances elsewhere in horror. The thought of what was to come next was heavy in their minds, and it hurt them severely.

“Well…” Wilson took a deep breath. “Alright.” He sniffled. “I’m sorry. I love you.”

“It’s okay.” Willow brushed away a tear from Wilson before removing her hand from his cheek. “I love you too, big brother.”

With that, she quickly snatched the blade from him, grabbed Charlie by the collar, and stabbed her in the stomach as hard as she could.

 


	11. Chapter 11- Break and Mend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grab tissues because I am a merciless jackass.

For a moment, there was nothing but a dead silence in the chasm. Wendy and Webber had disobeyed Maxwell’s instructions to look away and had watched Willow stab Charlie with amazement and fear. Everyone else felt about the same way.

Charlie suddenly shrieked with pain. “You brat!” She lunged to grab for Willow’s throat, but the other woman was smaller and too fast for her. She pulled the knife out of the wound and swung her foot at her abdomen at full force, the toe of her shoe landing just under the stab wound. The shadow queen groaned in agony and doubled over, the lilac fabric on her dress quickly becoming stained around the area on which she’d been attacked. Surprised by her actions, Wilson stood back with the others, motionless and silent out of shock. He looked over at Maxwell, who was wide-eyed with horror. 

‘Holy shit.’ He mouthed to Wilson. 

‘Holy shit.’ Wilson mouthed back. 

Willow seemed unfazed by her actions or by the fact that her hand and shirt now had fresh, rapidly oxidizing blood on it. 

“That looks like it hurts.” She remarked crudely, gazing down at the wound in her opponent’s stomach. Charlie smiled weakly.

“I’ve had menstrual cramps that were worse.” Her voice was faint and scratchy, but there was a highly sarcastic tone to it. Even as she was dying, it appeared that Charlie could  _ still  _ manage to be a sarcastic piece of shit. Amazing.

Wilson winced and made a mental note not to ever poke fun at Willow for her menstrual cycle ever again.

Willow bit her lip, obviously thinking about hurting Charlie again but for some reason deciding against it for the time being. 

“Let me tell you something.” She snarled. The rapidly weakening woman on the ground made a grab for her ankle with her other hand as a last resort, but Willow swiftly kicked her in the jaw with her other foot, causing her to fall back with a moan of pain. “I don’t care  _ who _ you are, Charlie. You could be the most important woman in the entire damn world, and I’d still hate you. Wanna know why?”

Charlie didn’t so much as flinch. Wilson could see she was in quite a bit of pain and was loosing blood fast, but wasn’t dead just yet.

“Because you’ve inflicted misery and suffering upon my brother and his wonderful new companions for years now.” She spat, kicking the fallen one in the ribs. “Granted, I’ll give you that you gave Wilson friends in the first place. Outside of that, however, you’ve been absolute shit to them. Treating their lives like they’re a part of some sort of game, killing an old woman in cold blood just to watch us turn on ourselves... _ how dare you _ ! And to say that you can somehow magically bring them back to how their lives were before you fucked them up! Give me a break! You’re a corrupt leader, Charlie, driven mad by the shadows! To think Maxwell ever thought anything positive of the likes of you. Disgusting!” She tipped Charlie’s chin up to meet her eyes. “I’m not afraid of you, you know. You may be the darkness, but do not forget who the light is.” 

Wilson was aghast. He had never seen such a cold, relentless side like this to her before. The life she’d lived without him must have hardened her a great deal. Shocked and amazed, he didn’t dare to pull his eyes away, morbid curiosity tempting him to see what was to happen next. Willow spun the knife in her hand with her wrist.

“What are you doing?” Charlie asked weakly. Her voice was hoarse and raspy, and her life was fading quickly.

Willow just smiled sweetly and readjusted the grip on the blade.

“Think about it, smart one.” She replied in an almost singsong voice. “Wilson, dear, please ensure that the children do not see this.” 

Wilson’s eyes widened and he quickly turned Webber and Wendy away, despite their rather noisy protests. ‘Oh, god, Willow.’ He thought, feeling himself become nauseous as he turned away a bit himself. ‘What’s come over you?’ He hoped dearly it was lack of sanity and nothing else.

Willow used her foot to move the seriously wounded Charlie closer so that he had easier access to the chest.

“I almost have the mind to burn you to death, you know.” She whispered so quietly that only Charlie could hear. “I won’t do that, though I do still plan to kill you.”

Charlie gasped softly, trying desperately to breathe. “Please don’t…”

“You expect me to spare you after all you’ve done? Really?” Willow rolled her eyes. “Get out of here, Charlie.” 

With that, she plunged the knife into her chest, causing what little life the fallen queen had in her eyes to disappear for good. Wilson saw the striking robin’s-egg blue in Charlie’s eyes again, and he thought that she could have been quite an attractive woman had she not been such a horrible person. Shortly after she passed, her body melted into ash, and was blown away by an unseen force. That was just what happened to bodies here, Wilson figured. No rhyme or reason to it; it just happened. Willow seemed a bit miffed by it but didn’t seem to care so long as Charlie was dead. 

“Well, that’s settled.” Willow stood up. “Now what?”

It took a moment for the others to regain their senses.

“My god! Willow, that was amazing!” Wigfrid was the first to speak. “You just...just grabbed her, and--wow. Just. Wow.”

“Amazing thinking.” Wilson praised, still stunned and mildly horrified. “I...never would have thought you’d actually kill someone, you know?” 

“To be fair, we’re talking about her wiping out the same person who treated our well-beings like some stupid component to an experiment.” Wigfrid pointed out. “She  _ so _ had it coming.”

“Okay, true.” Wilson nodded. 

“Oh, Willow, I’m so proud of you!” The stage actress ran to her girlfriend despite the bloody, messy state she was in. Willow smiled and held out her arms, and the redhead embraced her tightly. “Not even I could take down someone like her the way you did!”

“Speaking of which…” Willow paused. “How come Charlie didn't try to fight back? Like, she’s super powerful, isn’t she? Why didn’t she just kill me on the spot when I stabbed her?” 

“I think I may know why.” Wilson volunteered, clearing his throat. “I noticed that when you stabbed her, it was in the middle of the abdomen. That knife had to be a good four or five inches long, which is enough to pierce the abdominal aorta at the speed you stabbed her with. She must have been too surprised to properly recover, weakened quickly due to blood loss, and died of the same reason. I must say, I wouldn’t have expected this from you, but I’m really quite proud. Now we’ll never have to face her again.”

“Quite an observation you’ve made,” Maxwell remarked, “But not entirely true. In killing her, you’ve reduced her from the status of ruler of shadows to mortal. She’ll likely wind up back in our world, once we get back.” He smiled. “I think we’ll be able to deal with her from there, though.” 

“Isn’t someone supposed to be on the shadow throne, though? Who will it be?” Wendy asked softly. 

Everyone drew in a sharp gasp. They hadn’t thought about that. Wilson began to feel extremely uneasy. He didn’t like where this was going.

“She’s got a point.” Woodie said, and he and Wes exchanged nervous glances. “Charlie’s dead now. Who’s next?”

Maxwell sighed bitterly. “Oh dear. I’m sorry.” He said, his voice heavy with sorrow. “But now that the current queen has died, the laws of the land require that someone must take her place. In this case, it would have to be the one that killed her. Willow, but I’m afraid that’s you.” 

Wilson’s heart sank. “No.” He and Willow met eyes. She looked just as upset as him. 

“So that means…” She released Wigfrid from her arms. “Oh. Oh no.”

“Willow…” Overcome with emotion, Wilson slowly approached his sister. He threw his arms around her and began to sob. She hugged back quickly. 

“Shh, shh. Don’t cry, Wilson.” She cooed softly. “It’s okay. Really. I’ll be fine.” He could tell, though, that she was beginning to choke up too. 

“I’m sorry.” Wilson choked out. “I just...oh, god. I’m...I’m scared, Willow. I don’t want to lose you like this.”

“I know. I know.” Willow replied shakily. “I want to stay with you all too, but I can’t.” She sighed. “Everything really does come with a price, doesn’t it?” She chuckled bitterly. “Look on the bright side. At least Charlie won't be the one pulling the reins anymore.”

Wilson sniffled. “Well, that’s true.” 

Willow nodded. “I promise you, I’ll be better for you all.” She gave Wilson a pat on the back. “Maxwell. Any advice?” She glanced up at the shadow throne. Maxwell pondered this for a moment. 

“Be strong.” He said gravely, then smiled, or at least made a face that was about as close to a smile as he could get then. “I don't think I'll have to remind you of that, though. I have faith in you, Willow. You’ll be just fine up there.”

“Yeah!” Wigfrid exclaimed, but her voice wavered. “You’ll...you’ll do great.” She began to tear up as well. 

“Oh, Winnie.” Willow held out her arms to her and the redhead embraced her again, crying this time. 

“I’m sorry, I just can’t help it!” She wailed. “I fear I’ll never get to see your beautiful face again.”

“Darling, don’t cry. I’ll figure something out.” She brushed a strand of curly red hair out of the stage actress’ face. “It’s alright. This won’t be the end of us. I promise.”

“I hope so.” Wigfrid brushed some tears out of her eyes and moved her arms down to Willow’s waist. In an instant, she pulled the other woman closer in a deep farewell kiss, Willow’s arms around Wigfrid’s shoulders and the redhead’s arms around Willow’s waist. The sight was so beautiful that it moved Wilson to tears once again. ‘Their love is probably one of the best things in this world.’ He thought. 

They stayed together for a while, and when they pulled apart, they did so reluctantly. Wigfrid brushed a strand of inky black hair out of her girlfriend’s face. 

“You’ll be the most beautiful queen that has ever ruled this land, you know.” Wigfrid said, affectionately cupping her face. Willow blushed. 

“Oh, Winnie.” She laughed. “Maybe if things go smoothly from here, I’ll make you my wife, and then we’ll really be together.”

Wigfrid’s eyes lit up. “You mean that?”

Willow nodded. “Of course I mean that.” 

“Will that make me a princess, Aunt Willow?” Wendy asked, tugging at the sleeve of Willow’s shirt. 

“Oh! And will we be a princess, too?” Webber joined his friend at the new queen’s side. 

Willow laughed. “Of course. You can both be princesses, if you want.”

Wendy and Webber cheered and hugged her. Wilson wrapped an arm around her shoulder, Maxwell gave her a pat on the back, and the Woodie/Wes/Wolfgang trio all shook hands with her. It felt impolite to do anything more, considering their lack of familiarity with her.

“You’ll do great, Willow. I promise.” Wilson reassured her, then sighed. “I just wish you didn’t have to go so soon.”

“Oh, hush. You’ll be fine. Besides,” She pointed out, tweaking him on the nose. “I’m not really gone. I’m just...in a different place.”

“Like Wickerbottom?” Webber asked childishly, causing everyone to become solemn again.

“Yes, dear.” Willow replied. “Sort of.” 

“Oh.” Webber seemed a bit disappointed at this. Wendy gave him a reassuring pat on the back, and an awkward silence settled over the group. 

“I suppose this just leaves us with the task of how to get out of here.” Wilson said after some time.

“Damn.” Willow crossed her arms in thought. “Maxwell...as the queen, I can basically do whatever, right?”

“...yes. Well,” He sighed. “Technically, you can get the shadows to do things for you, but it’s kind of the same thing.” He raised an eyebrow. “What do you have in mind?” 

“Oh, just casually plotting how I’m going to get you lot out of here, no big deal.” Willow chuckled softly. “I’ll just have to assume my role as queen and then you’ll be on your way.” 

“You do realize,” Maxwell interjected. “That once you’re on that throne, there’s no coming off permanently, right?”

“Yes, I do realize that.” She replied, twirling the end of a pigtail through her fingers. “If that’s so, then how did Charlie…?” 

“One of two ways.” Wigfrid snickered. “Either she’s got special privileges thanks to them or she did something...inappropriate, I should say, to get on their good side.”

“Winnie!” Willow scolded, slapping her on the shoulder, but couldn’t help laughing herself.

“Let’s not dwell on that.” Maxwell coughed, a bit embarrassed. 

“He’s right.” Wigfrid sighed. “Let’s get going.” She kissed Willow on the cheek one more time. “Be safe down here, okay, darling?” 

“Of course.” Willow replied fondly. “Don’t do anything stupid that could prevent you from ever seeing me again.” 

They laughed, but it didn’t sound lighthearted. 

“Goodbye, Willow.” The realization that this really was the end of seeing her hit Wilson hard. He wanted to say more, but couldn’t. There was a lump in his throat that prevented the words he badly needed to say from leaving him. Webber and Wendy hurried over and hugged her tightly, bidding her goodbye as well. 

“It’s time, then,” Willow pulled away from the group, casting her eyes to the shadow throne. “For me to run the gauntlet.” 

She made her way over to the throne, heels clicking against the stone floor. Wilson turned his eyes away. He couldn’t bear to see this. 

“Oh, and Wilson?” His sister’s voice pierced the air. “Don't starve out there or anything, okay?”

Wilson could only nod. The others sensed his uneasiness and empathized, turning themselves away as well and silently heading back down to the place where they had come to at earlier. The whole time, Wilson felt numb, emotionless, and had a difficult time trying to process that all of this was really, truly happening. 

‘This is all a dream, right?’ His eyes were glued to the floor and he felt that he was dragging himself along rather than walking. ‘I’ll wake up and she’ll be next to me, there’ll be snow falling, and we’ll set to hunting rabbits or maybe a gobbler for dinner.’ Through his denial, however, there was a horrible underlying feeling that screamed the actuality of the situation, and he dared not face that now. It would break him. He knew it, and he could not have that just yet. Thus, he hid it under the thin, silky fabric of his denial, a fabric that would soon be consumed by flames.

It felt like a longer walk going back to there than it was coming from, probably because of how heavily the aura of multiple negative feelings at once weighed down on them. Wilson was hardly conscious of this, however. Wendy locked hands with him and Wigfrid had Webber close by her side. They were very quiet and solemn, which was unusual for such young children. Wilson didn’t blame them.

“Woah.” Woodie stopped abruptly, causing the entire group to stop as well. Wilson looked up and gasped softly. Before them, at the same place where they’d come to earlier, was a portal nearly identical to the one they used to come here in the first place. Instead of roses, however, there grew a plethora of ferns flourishing around the base. 

“It’s a nice look.” Wigfrid said, a bit flatly. If everyone hadn’t been feeling so crummy, they would have appreciated the sight a little bit more.

“Let’s go through.” Wilson said, biting the inside of his cheek. “I can’t bear to stay any longer.”

Maxwell nodded and flipped the switch on the side. Shadow hands similar to the ones that pulled them down earlier grabbed them, and this time no one tried to fight back. Instead, they let themselves go under and become consumed by blackness for the time. It felt better than how they were feeling now. 

~~

They came to in front of Charlie’s portal in the cave. Again, Wilson was the first to wake. He pulled himself to his feet and looked over to the portal. A few gears poked out of the machine that weren't there before, and it appeared broken.

‘Looks like there’s really no going back now.’

The others woke soon thereafter and seemed to resume their states of emotional detachment. Maxwell made a few extra torches and wordlessly led them back with one burning brightly in his hand. Wes and Woodie held hands in silence as they resumed walking, the mime’s gloved fingers running over the lumberjack’s knuckles. Wilson felt jealousy burning in him at the sight of that innocent touch. He needed that kind of comfort from Maxwell, or anybody, really, but he recalled what Charlie said about her manipulating Maxwell’s emotions and wondered hard about if his feelings were in vain. There were so many unanswered questions he needed to know the answers to, and yet they didn’t stop his heart from fluttering every time he thought about being romantic with him. He needed both the touch and the answers so badly it hurt, and it only added onto the plethora of bad emotions weighing him down. 

Silently, Wilson begged for death.

Everyone’s legs began burning halfway through the walk, but most were hardly conscious of it. Wilson looked over to see Wendy on the verge of tears due to the wound in her knee and the strain of her little muscles.

“Hey,”  He pat her on the head gently. “It’s alright, Wendy. We’ll be back home soon.” He made a mental note that the first thing he would do once they got back was clean her face and help brush her hair before sending her to bed. 

‘Ha.’ He smiled to himself. ‘When did I become such a protective parent?’

He blamed Willow, mostly, and realized there was a lot of things she'd take the blame for soon. Since she'd arrived, Wendy had been more open with her emotions, Woodie seemed to smile more often, Wigfrid had a new twinkle in her eye and laughed harder, more often now that she had a girlfriend. Even Maxwell seemed to enjoy her company and was more pleasant because of it.

He sighed bitterly, knowing that he’d never get the privilege of having someone like her in his life again. 

They arrived at the hole in the cave roof and took turns climbing out. The rest of the trip back went by like a blur, and Wilson could hardly process it when they finally reached base. It also took him a moment to realize that the base was in shambles, and that it hardly looked like the place they’d left earlier that day.

“Uh. Woah.” Woodie nudged him in the side hard. “You guys see this too, right?”

There were no signs of the hounds anywhere, but from the looks of it, they were the ones responsible for this. Crockpots were knocked over, chests and iceboxes were destroyed, and the tents had collapsed on themselves, their fabric covers ripped apart and strewn everywhere. It was an absolute mess, but for some reason it didn’t visibly affect most of them too much. However, Wilson was briefly snapped from his grief-induced trance and realized immediately that someone had to take charge to get this place looking good again. 

“Yeah. I see it.” The scientist whistled. “Hoo boy. Looks like we’ve got work to do.” He knew how badly the others were feeling and still felt like garbage himself, but knew that they'd have to get things done around here and decided to hand out orders if no one else would. “Let's get the place fixed up.”

No one argued with him. They were too exhausted emotionally and physically to complain, and besides, they wouldn’t be able to do anything with the place looking like a wreck. Wigfrid erected the poles of the tents and struggled to keep her grip on them as Wolfgang and Woodie helped tie the fabric over the frames. Wilson and Maxwell fixed the crockpots and mended the chests as best as they could.  Wes and the children helped unloaded materials from their packs into the newly constructed storage containers.

“Those damn dogs ruined nearly the whole base.” Wilson grumbled, repairing one of the iceboxes. The dogs must have been very hungry, because they were running dangerously low on food even with the food they’d brought with them into the cave. Someone would have to go hunting soon, or they’d be out within the next few days. “Fucking  _ mutts _ .” He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from losing his temper and kicking something. He brushed aside some dirt and snow to flatten the land and find a suitable place for the box and found a small piece of wood. Curiously, he picked it up and turned it over in his hand. 

“Maxwell, look at this.” He found it was a hand-carved pawn piece to a chess set, and recognized it as one he’d made back in the early days of their life in this world. He’d carved a whole set of pieces and even designed a board at one point in his spare time, which grew as the need to go out and gather resources diminished. “I forgot we even had these.”

“Huh.” The other carefully took the piece in his own hands and turned it over a few times. “So did I.”

“I wonder if the rest of the set is still here.” Wilson began feeling around in the snow to see if he could find anything else, perhaps a rook or two.

“Possibly not, but if they are, we should play a round or two once we get things back in order.” Maxwell offered, a tad bit awkwardly. Wilson froze and felt his cheeks turn pink, but not from the cold.

“That would be great, actually.” He smiled shyly. “Till then, just put that in one of the chests.”

The other smiled too and did so before resuming his work. Wilson continued to repair the iceboxes, too, but was in a slightly better mood now.

Dusk had fallen by the time they had finished. Six of the tents were successfully erected and patched up, a bit wet on the inside but suitable enough for a person or two to sleep in. They rationed out food and Wes changed Wendy’s bandages, as well as Wilson’s, before retiring to a tent with Woodie. Wolfgang took a tent of his own and Webber reserved one for himself and Wendy. None of the adults had a problem with it, since they were children and there was nothing more than an innocent friendship between them. Wigfrid sullenly took a third, and the last two were for Maxwell and Wilson separately. 

“Thanks, Wes.” Wilson said and ran his fingers over the clean gauze on his arm just before Wes climbed into his tent. The mime smiled at him in reply, but it looked slightly forced. Wilson couldn’t blame him. He couldn’t blame anyone for how awful they felt right now, except Charlie. If he could, he would beat her to death with a cast-iron skillet, but she was already dead, so he couldn’t. He was trying desperately to keep his mind off of what had just happened, because every time he dwelled on the fact that Willow was no longer with them, it hurt him so badly that he'd rather drink poison than feel. He threw some spare boards in the firepit and sat down, trying to immerse himself in the beauty and heat of the flames the way his little sister did. Maybe, he figured, I could drown out my thoughts in this way. The evening was bitterly cold, and he shivered slightly, holding his hands close to the flames to warm them up. He flinched slightly when he heard someone clear their throat softly. 

“Wilson…?” The man turned his head to the side to see Wendy tug at his shirt sleeve.

“Hm? What's wrong?” He asked softly, trying to hide his own emotion from the child, fearing it may make her more sullen. 

“I miss her.” She confessed softly, tears welling up in her eyes. He didn’t need to hear a name to know what she meant.

Wilson hugged her. “Oh, Wendy.” She began to tremble in his arms. ‘Think.’ He commanded himself internally. ‘What should I say?’

“I know.” He managed to choke out. He felt himself welling up with tears too. “We all do. It's gonna be okay, Wendy. I promise.” He affectionately kissed her on the forehead. “Go to sleep. You're tired. Maybe tomorrow you’ll feel a little better.” He knew that was a blatant lie, but the prospect of emotional recovery would hopefully be a help to her. 

Wendy sniffed. “Well, okay. Goodnight.” She rubbed her eyes and got up to leave, stopping about halfway to her tent. 

“You know,” she paused. “If Abigail were still alive, I think she would love you and Aunt Willow as much as Webber and I do.” She whispered, then left before Wilson could reply. 

The scientist couldn't help but smile at the comment, but it was quickly wiped off by a stinging sensation in his chest. As kind as it was to say, that hurt. Not because it was insulting, though, because it wasn’t. He couldn’t quite distinguish why.

He soon found himself growing worried about Willow’s current condition. How was she doing? What would the shadows do to her in the future? He began to shake. 

No.  _ No.  _

_ ‘ _ Focus on something else, Wilson.’ He tried to urge himself, but his thoughts wouldn't go elsewhere. For the first time, he actually realized that he’d lost his sister for good. He imagined her, stuck to the throne like a fly on wax, dark circles under her eyes from the stress of warding off Them. He imagined her hair losing its shimmer, her body becoming frail the way Maxwell’s had, her kind and bubbly personality being torn away from her by the darkness. 

Before he knew it, there were tears streaming down the sides of his face and he trembled violently. 

“Say, pal, you look awful.” The man looked up to see Maxwell sitting on the log next to him like the other nights where they'd conversed out here. 

“S-speak for yourself.” Wilson tried to force a smile. “You look pretty worn down too.” 

“Not nearly as bad as you, though.” The magician extended a hand. “Wanna talk?” 

“Please.” Wilson sighed and awkwardly took his hand, their fingers locking together. At least he'd have a way to get this off his chest. “Can I, uh…” he pointed to the empty space next to Maxwell. Maxwell nodded and Wilson moved over next to him. 

“I just have so many questions,” Wilson rested his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands. “And I feel so awful right now that I could collapse.” 

“I can see that.” Maxwell pulled a cigar out of his jacket pocket and lit it with the campfire. 

“How many of those do you have?” Wilson looked over at him and asked. Maxwell chuckled. 

“I never run out. Magic.” 

“I see.” Wilson nodded and focused again on the fire. The flames flickered and danced within their border of stones, and he saw why Willow found it so beautiful. Tears pooled at the corners of his eyes again. 

“This is all my fault, isn't it.” He groaned, burying his face in his hands. 

“Huh?” Maxwell stopped halfway through a drag on the cigar, choking slightly. “How so? It was her conscious decision to do that, Wilson. It was no one’s fault.” 

“That's not what I mean.” Wilson wiped a few tears off his face. “I mean...what Charlie said about this being an experiment. It was all about me.” He shuddered. “In a way, it does feel like my fault.” He rambled on, tears beginning to flow again, “Maybe if I hadn't acted so weird then maybe I wouldn't have interested her and she wouldn't have held us all captive for that. Maybe if I'd listened to my parents  _ one single fucking time _ and learned to behave normally, then Willow would still be here! God damn it!” He began to sob violently into his hands. “I'm sorry! I'm sorry, Maxwell. This is on me. I'm sorry I ruined everything for you and everyone else here!” 

Maxwell was aghast and slightly unsure of how to react. Carefully he placed a hand on Wilson’s trembling shoulder. “Shh, shh, Wilson. Calm down.” 

“S-sorry. I just....” He sniffled again, wiping his eyes on his wrist. “Jesus.” He smiled suddenly with a bitter chuckle. “Never thought I’d see a day as wild as this one’s been. First we get chased out by a pack of wild mutts, then we get stuck underground, then we meet a crazy woman who probably gets her rocks off to us hating each other’s guts, and then…” A lump formed in his throat and the smile went away. “And then I lose my baby sister to the darkness.” He began to tremble, his tears dripping down slowly. Maxwell wrapped an arm around his shoulder, and the scientist leaned into his side without reserve. They stayed that way for quite some time.

“I almost can’t believe she was here with us at all, you know?” He finally managed to calm himself to where he could speak. “I feel like I’m gonna wake up and find out all of this was a dream.”

Maxwell nodded. “Here one day, gone the next.” There was a catch in his voice, too, and Wilson looked up to see tears in his eyes as well. “I feel ya.” 

“Max…” He reached out and brushed the first one that fell onto his cheek. “You’re crying, too.”

Maxwell nodded, averting his eyes. “Funny, isn’t it? I’m not usually a very emotional man. But Charlie…” He sighed. “I just didn’t think she’d ever be so vile. Somehow, I thought she could change, but I was wrong.” He looked back over at the scientist. “Willow did the right thing. Now, Charlie may likely come back fully mortal in this world, but if she doesn’t for some reason then I honestly won’t miss her.” He shook his head. “Not after that confession she made. Damn! I told you, the shadows change people.”

Wilson nodded in agreement. “I just hope they don’t change Willow.”

Maxwell was silent for a moment. “They will, and I hate to say that, but fortunately for her it won’t happen for a while. Like I said, I don’t doubt that she’s strong enough to keep them from affecting her sanity, but that strength won’t last forever.” He sighed. “A shame it had to be her.”

“That’s how we all feel.” The scientist shivered and held his hands out to the fire again. The snow on and around the pits had melted fully by now, but it was still quite chilly. “I can see Wendy and Wigfrid were hurt the most, or at least they’re the most open about it.”

“I didn’t know you sister was a lesbian.” Max remarked casually. “It’s not a bad thing, of course. I don’t mind. I just...didn’t expect Wigfrid’s feelings to be returned.”

“Yeah.” Wilson laughed. “I didn’t know either, actually. I don’t mind. I’m just glad she and Wigfrid are happy.” He frowned. “Were, anyway.”

Maxwell nodded. “I doubt they’ll ever see each other again. Truly a tragic love story.”

The man next to him nodded in agreement. “Like Romeo and Juliet. Er, Juliet and Juliet.” He laughed shakily. “What a lovely couple, too. I would have liked to see them married one day, like Willow mentioned.” He looked over to Maxwell. “While we’re here, I want you to tell me more about Charlie.” He requested. “Did you know she had planned any of this?”

Maxwell seemed a bit taken aback by the sudden turn in the conversation. “No, actually.”

“She never said so much as a word to you about this while you were throned?” Wilson raised an eyebrow suspiciously.

“No, Wilson. Am I really that hard to trust after this?” 

“It’s not just you, it’s how shady this whole thing is!” Wilson groaned. “Sorry, sorry, just...lack of understanding is making me insane.” He sighed. “What was your relationship with one another before we switched places on the throne?” 

The other was quiet for a while. “I loved her.” He admitted. “She was nothing but good to me. She was the only woman besides my own mother who’d ever truly cared for me. I took to her fairly quickly, and we became close, and soon I fell in love.” He sighed. “But I never confessed, at least not fully. I never did tell her those three words, and that was my biggest regret for a long time.  _ Was _ . I never thought she’d be so cold like what we saw earlier, and watching her die was probably one of the hardest things I’ve ever done despite how much she deserved that.” He looked away and again Wilson could see he was becoming quite upset again. 

“Oh.” The scientist placed a hand on his shoulder. “Oh, god, Maxwell, I...I’m sorry.” He paused. “She was rather pretty, I’ll admit. I can see how you took to her.” He sighed deeply, removing his hand from his shoulder. “Wow. This has been a shitty, emotional day, hasn’t it?” 

“You can say that again.” Maxwell dropped the now burnt out cigar on the ground and snuffed it out with his shoe. They sat in silence for a moment, awkward tension in the air around them. Wilson had the urge to gently kiss him on the cheek to try comfort him a little, but held himself back.

“Speaking of emotional, there’s something I think you should know.” The magician said after a while.

Wilson’s breath caught in his throat. What could it be, on top of all this? Probably not something good, he figured, his heart sinking into his feet. Not from the way he'd said that, anyway. 

“Tell me.” He requested anyway.

Maxwell was silent for a moment before taking a deep breath. “Charlie manipulated you by manipulating me.” He said, a bit unsteadily. “She...took control of me, I guess you could say, and tried to get you to catch feelings for me. For what exact reason other than for fun, I don't know, but she did it.” 

Wilson almost felt his vital organs shut down right then and there. He nodded slowly, both dreading and dying to hear more. 

“Yeah. Uh, why are you bringing this up again?” 

“Because I need to know if what she did actually worked.” Maxwell answered, averting his glance. Wilson’s heart began to beat hard in his chest, and not in a good way. Surely from the way he was acting that he didn't feel the same. 

‘Oh, god.’ He felt himself beginning to tremble again. ‘So this is what impending rejection feels like.’ 

“I...uh…” He let out a shaky breath. “I think you already know my answer.” He turned away, ashamed.

Maxwell was silent.

‘Oh, god, oh god.’ Wilson’s pulse was racing, and despite the bitterly cold temperature, he felt himself beginning to sweat.

“I see.” Maxwell replied after a while. “I’m going to be honest with you, alright?” Wilson nodded stiffly. The other man took a deep breath.

“I like you, Wilson.” 

Wilson froze all over. “Wait...you’re serious?” He looked up at Maxwell, amazed. The magician flushed and glanced away shyly.

“Why else do you think I’ve been so friendly?” He asked. “You know, I actually think you’re a good person. I can’t forgive myself for what I did to you on that throne.” He sighed bitterly. “I’m not trying to get you to accept my feelings, or to forgive me. I just can’t keep this inside me any longer.”

Wilson sat there dumbly for a time, trying to process this. “Maxwell…” He placed a hand on the other’s shoulder, and quickly turned his face away. Forgiveness.  _ Feelings. _ What was he to say to that?

“You know…” He finally turned back after some thought. “I think I forgave you when you first kissed me, and when you said that you were the one who brought Willow back.” He admitted. “Besides that, I probably did equally horrible or worse things to you when I was on the throne. At least, from the way  _ she _ talked about it, that’s what I could tell.” He gritted his teeth and looked away at the mention of that person, then softened his expression a moment later. “I suppose we’re even, then, so I can't say I'm mad anymore.” He admitted. “And I'll admit, when we kissed…I really liked it. I think--no. I  _ know  _ feel the same, Maxwell. I know it now.” He felt his face heating up and continued. “You've been nothing but good to me lately. I couldn't ask for anything more.” He cupped the side of Maxwell’s face, and they smiled. Wilson felt his heart racing in his chest, and he loved it. Their arms found their ways around the other’s waists, and the smaller one’s head was rested against Maxwell’s chest. “God. Everything about today has been truly awful, except for this.”

Maxwell nodded and ran his fingers through Wilson’s tangled black hair. They never said it out loud, but they knew that these next few days were going to be extremely rough for everyone, and that the only way they would get through this would be to help each other recover. Silently they knew that they’d be willing to do just that.

“Kiss me.” Wilson blurted, and blushed when he realized what he'd just said. “Uh...I mean…”

Maxwell chuckled. “Cute.” He remarked, causing the other to blush more. “If you want to.”

Wilson swallowed nervously. “I do.”

The next thing Wilson knew, their lips were pressed together, and he wrapped his arms around Maxwell’s broad shoulders to hold them together. His heart pounded away in his chest, euphoria consuming him and dissolving most of the negativity that had been brewing inside. While this would never, ever take the grief of Willow’s sacrifice away, it made him feel wonderful in the moment, and that’s what he needed desperately then. Their fingers became tangled in each others’ hair, and remained there even when they pulled away. 

“I love you.”

The words left Wilson’s mouth quickly and without much thought, but as he mulled over what he said, he realized he meant it.  _ Love _ was what he felt for Maxwell.  _ Love _ was what was making him behave so strangely, and why this man was on his mind so often. Maxwell appeared stunned by these words at first, but smiled. 

“I love you too, pal.” He replied, pressing their foreheads together. Wilson thought he would cry again, but this time it would be from happiness. He moved his hands down to Maxwell’s waist, resting them there, and realized it was quite dark out. “Uh oh. It’s already nighttime.” He began to feel slightly anxious thanks to Charlie’s little shadow hand stunt she’d pulled a few nights earlier. Maxwell gave him a reassuring kiss on the cheek.

“She’s dead now, Wilson.” He reminded him. “Nothing’s going to get us tonight.” 

“I hope not.” Wilson shuddered slightly from the contact. Something above them caught his eye, and he looked up. “Oh! Maxwell, look!” 

He looked, and the two saw a beautiful sky filled with stars above them, each one a different size and brightness from the next. Their lights danced and flickered across the night sky, creating patterns and shapes that didn’t have any specific names. It was a beautiful thing to behold, especially since Charlie’s darkness had kept them from seeing any stars ever since they’d come here. 

“Oh my god…” The magician breathed and exchanged a glance with his love. 

“Willow must have done this.” The other whispered. “Oh, sis…” 

Maxwell cupped the side of his face. “I have a feeling that she’s doing just fine right now, dear. Don’t worry.” Wilson felt fuzzy and warm inside at the term of endearment that had been thrown in, and leaned into Maxwell’s side.

“Yeah.” He replied, a smile spreading across his face. In that moment, he realized something. Despite how badly everything had been that day, there was still good to it in the form of these stars and his new lover. Maybe, just maybe, every day was like that and he just hadn't seen it: a little bit of good, a little bit of bad. There would always be some good to counter the bad. 

He looked out at the camp, leaning into Maxwell’s shoulder. There was still work to be done around there, he saw. There were some broken walls, a few more bits of debris lying about, but that was alright. There was a tear in everyone’s heart from Willow leaving them, but he thought that that was alright, too. He figured that if they could handle all the big breaks they'd been dealt already, they could mend this. It could take days, it could take months, it could take  _ years _ for them to heal even a little bit, but he knew they could do it.

They would recover. 


	12. Chapter 12- Written (Epilogue)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's hear something from Wilson's point of view. You might wanna keep those tissues close by, just in case.

Day 6 of...

Spring #7, if memory serves

1926 

 

Been a while since I finally got the chance to sit on my ass and write something. It's a welcome break from all the building and cleaning and harvesting we've done around here lately. Wendy’s knee has headed just fine, but there's a large and very noticeable scar just underneath the patella that she's a bit self-conscious of. Wigfrid and Webber are always trying to build up her confidence about it, though, so I'm sure she'll be fine with it soon enough. She’s quite adorable about it, to be honest. I didn’t think much of raising children before, but I’m having second thoughts about that now thanks to Willow. Wendy and Webber are like everybody’s children around here, and as far as I know their only problem with it is that they’re unsure of who to call ‘Mummy’ and ‘Daddy’. 

Winter was actually surprisingly mild for us. I'm sure we all know who to thank for that. Everyone was quite depressed during the most of the season, but they’ve recovered since then. Not fully, but we’re all making progress. Now it's spring, as stated at the beginning of this entry, and so far, we’re thriving. I'm a bit worried, actually, since we haven't received any attacks from the hounds just yet. We usually get one around this time. Maybe I've just miscounted the days. That, and for some reason Charlie never came back as a human into this world. While I’m feeling a bit suspicious about that, words can’t describe how happy I am that she’s gone and that we’ll never have to deal with her again. Hoorah!

Our crops are doing just fine. The bees are starting to produce honey but we can't go anywhere near them because they'll poke us full of holes and bee poison if we do. Oh well. Honey isn't a priority right now anyway. What IS, however, is monitoring the world closely to see what other changes Willow may add to it soon. At least, that's MY biggest priority. Everyone else is still trying to get used to the fact that she's gone in the first place, and on top of old Wickerbottom’s death, too. Can one blame them for missing her? Absolutely not. She was a treasure to us all, myself and Wigfrid especially. Wigfrid especially has had difficulty adjusting to her absence. Before these past two weeks, I had never heard her cry before. It’s not something I want to hear again. It’s quite heartbreaking to listen to someone you’re friends with cry over something you know you can’t fix. Poor Winnie. The good news is, she and Maxwell are on better terms now. They apologized to one another for the little incident that went down between them when we found Wickerbottom’s body and how they approached it. Wigfrid is actually fairly accepting of Maxwell and I now, so I suppose that’s a good thing, too.

By the way, Maxwell made the strangest discovery. The morning after we confessed to one another about how we felt, he found a note in his tent that said ‘Hey-- take good care of my brother for me, okay? -W’. Oh, Willow. We didn’t deserve her. I will admit, though, I’m a bit embarrassed at the idea that she saw us getting intimate out there.

That note isn’t the only thing we’ve gotten from her thus far, actually. Near the end of the winter, Wes had a horrible mishap with some beefalo in heat that had somehow wandered close to the base. Wigfrid brought him in to clean him up, but his wounds were pretty severe, and we were dangerously low on disinfectant. He developed an infection and passed away within a few days. It wasn’t pretty. We were devastated, Woodie especially, until we found some things outside the base the next morning. They looked...I don’t know how to describe them. They looked vaguely like a person’s heart with ropes tied around them, as if to hold them together. They came with a note detailing how to use them, and long story short, we brought Wes back with one. That’s one moment I don’t think I’m ever going to forget. That, and one of the kids mentioned bringing back Wickerbottom with one of the spares. Let’s just say trying to dig up that body wasn’t our brightest idea. I moved the last shovelful of dirt, looked down to see just how far I’d gotten, and promptly turned my head to the side to vomit. Luckily neither Wendy nor Webber saw what I did, or they would have been horribly,  _ horribly _ scarred. I should have kept in mind that decomposer bacterium existed here as well as in our old reality.

I suppose if I’m to continue writing, I’ll write about something more positive. Maxwell and I have gotten closer since that night. I’m not really sure how else to refer to it. He’s a lot more shy about romantic things than I thought he’d be. It’s actually kind of cute, I’m not going to lie. I just hope he doesn’t find this paper detailing my feelings. Otherwise I may die of embarrassment. We’ve spent a lot more time together since then, but we haven’t told the others explicitly that we’re together. Honestly, I’m not even sure that’s what we consider ourselves to be. I don’t know that much about same-sex relationships, other than the fact that they’re common in nature and that the animal with the highest rate of homosexuality is the bat. If only the world I knew before this one was more accepting of such things. Maybe then I’d have more knowledge of how to go about being in love with someone of the same sex. I’m sure the others can tell we’re together, though, and they’re fine with it. If they’re not, no one’s said anything. No one seems to have a problem with Wes and Woodie’s blatant flirting on a daily basis, so I have no idea why they wouldn’t be alright with something more low-key. Besides, we’re happy. If that’s the case, then there probably isn’t anything wrong with our love. 

To be honest, it feels weird calling it that. I don’t know why. I guess it’s just because when I say I love someone, I’m not used to saying it to mean that I love them romantically. I usually just say it to mean more like my brotherly affection towards Willow, or the parental affection I have for Wendy and Webber. Looks like this new relationship is yet another thing for me to get used to. That’s not a bad thing, of course. I’ve just got a lot on my plate right now. 

One more thing before I finally put my pen down. All this time I’ve spent with these people has made me realize something. Before I came here, the only thing that was important to me was my experiments and becoming one of the smartest people alive. (Keep in mind, I was trying to steer my focus away from my family since I hated my parents and thought my sister was dead.) I was morbidly self-obsessed, and that’s probably one of my biggest crimes. However, these people have taught me to become more… I suppose the word is compassionate, more aware of the needs and wants of others. While I’m still incapable of interpreting some feelings and emotions, and may not be the best all-around at interacting one-on-one or paying attention, I think I’ve become better with socializing with these people. The knowledge that I can do this brings me great happiness. Before now it was so hard to feel like others actually liked me, but here there’s a feeling of mutual acceptance for one another in the air, and it feels wonderful. 

Being here has made me realize the importance of being close to someone. If I hadn’t come here, then I honestly don’t think I ever would have met people who cared for me better than I’ve cared for me, and that would have been really different than what I’ve got now. I would have never met Wendy and Webber, my wonderful children whom I wouldn’t trade for the world. I would have never met Wes, the kind mime who doesn’t need words to be a good man. I would never have met Wigfrid, the wonderfully talented and strong stage actress who can take on any role flawlessly and loved my little sister with a heart of gold. I would have certainly never met Maxwell, the man I’ve learned to love despite our several disagreements over the years. Wickerbottom, Woodie, and Wolfgang have all influenced me as well, and even though I don’t interact with them much (especially Wickerbottom for obvious reasons), I can’t imagine what my life would be like without them. 

Point being, I think these long years of living with these people has taught me that you need to have an anchor of some sort to get through the worst times of your life, and that other people are sometimes one of the best forms of anchor that you can get. That’s probably some of the most useful information I have in my head right now, and I think that if anyone were to find this paper somehow and read it then I would want them to remember that single piece of information.

At present, Maxwell and I are underneath a birchnut tree together and he is asleep. Wigfrid and Wes are playing with the children in the garden. Wes has made them all flower garlands and it’s probably the cutest thing I’ve seen in ages. Just to the left of them, Woodie and Wolfgang are casually conversing with one another. It’s a wonderful and peaceful sight to behold, and I can only wish that it would last forever.

Nowadays, I think that if someone were to come up to me today, tomorrow, a week or even a century from now and ask “Wilson, who’s someone that you’re close to?”, all I would have to do is show them this wonderful bunch of people I’ve grown to love like family, the children, and my sweet baby sister, and that person would have their answer.

  
  


The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do plan to write a sequel. It will appear in the same ship tags as this one once I get it started. If you enjoyed this, please be sure to support that as well as my other upcoming works in the future. Thank you all so much for the support on this story alone! <3


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